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Grantaire is really done with today. It’s barely six PM, but his head aches and the only things running through his mind are hurting himself or drinking to oblivion. He knows that neither of these is an appropriate option, so instead he wraps a blanket around his bare torso and strolls out, past the bathroom where Éponine has just shut the shower off, and into the living room. Enjolras is curled up in the armchair ze prefers to do work in, and there are reading glasses perched on the end of zir nose. Ze only uses them when ze’s too tired to focus properly without them, so Grantaire feels no shame in plucking them off of zir face. Enjolras groans.
“Give those back,” ze requests without looking up from the computer, “I’m in the middle of something.”
“It can wait,” Grantaire says. He tries to sound nonchalant about it, but Enjolras knows him too well.
“All right,” ze says steadily, and ze clicks zir laptop shut and sets it on the end table. “Come here.” Grantaire obliges and practically drapes himself across Enjolras. He buries his head against Enjolras’ chest, and tries to focus on zir hands rubbing his back. A small bit of the urge to drink fades.
“If you two seriously expect me to be able to fit on there, you’ve got another thing coming.” Grantaire doesn’t look up, but he can imagine the way Éponine is rolling his eyes at them. Enjolras yawns, which is not surprising given ze’s gotten at most eight hours of sleep over the last three days.
“We’re moving to bed,” ze says matter-of-factly. Ze doesn’t give Grantaire a choice to move as ze stands up, and Grantaire clings and tries to find his footing. Éponine laughs. Then, Grantaire feels a warm hand between his shoulder blades steadying him. He tips his head back, and Éponine kisses him. His hair, which is just below his jaw, is still wet and Grantaire scrunches his face when a few droplets hit him.
“Bed sounds like an awesome place,” Éponine admits, and the three of them stumble their way into the bedroom. When they settle, flopping, Grantaire is firm between them. Enjolras is on his right, and Grantaire tucks his head down so that he can hear zir heartbeat. Éponine strokes his fingers through Grantaire’s curls, and his bare legs twine around the denim Grantaire is wearing.
“Thanks,” Grantaire mutters after a few minutes of comfortable silence. The feelings are still there, but the screaming of need need need has quieted. Enjolras and Éponine always make that happen; it’s why he drew on them months ago, when he realized enough was enough. A wave of gratitude sweeps him, because Grantaire is not just surrounded by his two best friends, but two people who love him—and each other—very deeply on multiple levels.
“Is it both tonight?” Éponine asks gently, and Grantaire nods. Enjolras presses a kiss to the top of Grantaire’s head. Then, Éponine reaches for Grantaire’s wrist; he takes it between short fingers and carefully works it between his thumbs. The pressure is a welcome relief and distraction from the almost itching, tight feeling that’s been building beneath his skin. Grantaire sighs in relief.
“Did something trigger it?” Enjolras voice is so damn caring and melodic, Grantaire has to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t cry.
“Not really,” he admits. “The past couple days have just been rough, ‘s all.” Éponine nudges Grantaire, so reluctantly he turns onto his other side and offers his other wrist to Éponine. Éponine takes it and works it between his hands just like the first one; Enjolras, to make up for the change in positions, curls zir hand around Grantaire’s waist and places a warm kiss on the back of his neck. Grantaire feels zir cold toes on his ankle and resists the urge to pull away.
When Éponine finishes with Grantaire’s other wrist, he does feel better. His throat and chest still feel tight, but everything is easier and Grantaire can tell he’s wound less tightly. Smiling a little, he tugs Éponine down and kisses him. It’s sloppy, because Grantaire is always a sloppy kisser, but still a pleasant thank you. Éponine’s smile reaches his eyes. Enjolras scoots even closer so ze can reach zir hand from Grantaire’s hip to Éponine’s hand and twine their fingers.
Enjolras’ voice breaks the quiet a little while later, as ze admits with another yawn, “I needed this too.”
“You always need this,” Éponine retorts. “Did you even come to bed last night?”
“No,” Grantaire says, “ze didn’t. I found zir asleep in the living room this morning—again.”
“All right, all right.” Enjolras’ weariness shows. “I’m here now, okay?” To reinforce that fact, ze nuzzles against Grantaire. Grantaire is the one who finally shifts to pull the blankets up around them.
“Your feet are freezing,” he says, when Enjolras (who prefers just a top sheet) groans. “Just relaaaaax.”
They don’t expect Enjolras to admit, “That’s hard.” A little sigh accompanies it. “I’ve got a presentation in two days that’s—it could not go well, and papers to write, and…”
“You feel guilty,” Éponine fills in when Enjolras stalls. Ze nods. They all know how hard it is for Enjolras to slow zirself down sometimes. Grantaire shifts so he’s lying on his back and can wrap his arm around Enjolras. He pulls zir head to his shoulder, and Enjolras does not protest. Even if ze must be forced to slow down, eventually ze will, into this a sleepy, snuggling ball of a person against Grantaire’s side.
“What about you?” Enjolras asks softly, sleepy eyes focused on Éponine. He shrugs.
“I’m hanging in there,” he says, but they can both see there’s something more underneath. “Someone—was douchey, today, but what else is new. Otherwise, I’m all right.”
“Who?” Enjolras asks around another yawn. Ze closes zir eyes, and Grantaire grins. Éponine groans.
“It was that—his name is fucking Daniel something, he’s in my art class. He’s just being generally shitty.” Enjolras groans.
“He’s the one who catcalled us as lesbians, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Éponine admits. “He’s not even that bad—like, I’ve dealt with worse, it’s just frustrating because he seems to pop up everywhere. I, um, might have snapped at him though.” He flushes a little, and a small smirk creeps onto his face, “and my professor ignored it, which was awesome.” Then, more darkly, he mutters, “I’m also pretty sure I’m PMSing though, which fucking sucks.” Enjolras squeezes his hand. Grantaire, with his arm not around Enjolras, reaches out to boop Éponine’s nose; it makes him smile. He curls the blanket under his side more and moves over so that he can press a kiss to Grantaire’s bare bicep. The space under the blanket is starting to warm up to a pleasant temperature for all but Enjolras.
Despite zir earlier protests, Enjolras falls asleep very quickly. Ze doesn’t quite snore, but zir breathes go soft and snuffly in a way that makes Grantaire and Éponine smile. As Grantaire strokes through that long, blond hair, he realizes that he doesn’t want a drink at all anymore.
When Grantaire finally falls asleep, he is basking in the fact that these two people love him so much, and they also miraculously love each other.