Work Text:
The all-too-familiar notification noise sounded from Grantaire’s phone, and he heaved a sigh before rolling over on the couch to grab it. He was ninety percent sure he could feel himself losing brain cells as he scrolled through the unfortunate sea of nearly identical Grindr messages:
Hey what’s up
hey whats up
Hey, what’s up?
Well, at least that last one understood basic grammar.
He decided it was as good an option as any and clicked on the chat to send back an equally inane: Not much, you?
With that herculean effort completed, he tossed his phone down and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.
He knew was Joly and Bossuet would say if they could see him. They’d tell him he was wallowing, and yeah, maybe he was, and sure, maybe his ex had been a massive douchebag, but at least he’d meant that Grantaire didn’t have to debase himself on Grindr.
“That’s not exactly a compelling reason to stay with someone,” Joly had pointed out once.
“Maybe not,” Grantaire had said. “But not all of us meet our soulmate at the age of 21, and you truly have no concept of how miserable hooking up and dating is these days.”
Of course, Grantaire reflected, still staring up at the ceiling, maybe miserable was the wrong word. Too strong a sentiment for the dull monotony of the – hey what’s up, not much you, looking for, top or bottom, dick pic, ass pic – exchanges that seemed to dominate the online dating world.
Banal was probably more accurate.
The Grindr noise sounded again and Grantaire sighed, reaching over to his phone to reply to whatever Mr. Correct Grammar had sent back.
Instead, he found a brand new message from user Revolution1832: Hey, have you made a plan to vote?
Despite himself, Grantaire was intrigued, and even more despite himself, he couldn’t quite stop the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth, a smile that only grew when he clicked on the guy’s profile and saw how hot he was.
He settled back against the couch as he typed out his response. I am fascinated to know what your response rate is.
He didn’t expect much of a response, if any, which is why he was shocked when the guy messaged back almost immediately. Honestly, better than when I officially text bank.
Grantaire snorted. Ok but I bet if you started off your official campaign texts with thirst traps of yourself you’d also get a better response rate
Again, he didn’t have to wait long for a response. Touché
Grantaire sat up a little straighter as he asked, Also does it count as a response if someone just sends you a dick pic?
Probably not, the guy messaged in reply, but I do count the one pic I got where a guy sent me a dick pic but he’d stuck his ‘I Voted’ sticker on it
Grantaire choked on air. Like the sticker on a banana?
Pretty much exactly like that, yeah.
Grantaire laughed out loud, shaking his head with something like wonder. Incredible.
This time, the pause between messages was slightly longer, just long enough for Grantaire to worry that it was the end of the conversation. But then Revolution1832 replied, Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you didn’t answer my original question.
Grantaire smirked. Sorry, I’m distracted by the banana dick image still, he demurred. What was the question?
Have you made a plan to vote?
Frankly, Grantaire had little intention of actually answering the question, which meant he needed to come up with a foolproof way to drive this guy absolutely crazy.
It was the only way he knew how to flirt.
The idea came to him in an instant, and he quickly typed, Oh is there some kind of election coming up?
…kindly tell me that’s a joke.
Grantaire was tempted to keep the ruse going, but decided to go for a bit of blunt honesty instead. How about you tell the DNC, DCCC, DSC and whoever the fuck else to stop emailing me 26 times an hour
Democracy is on the line , the guy replied after a moment, and Grantaire rolled his eyes.
Yeah and five bucks from me is not going to be what saves it.
Well, not that with that attitude.
Despite himself, Grantaire again laughed, his reply half written before he even realized that he hadn’t thought about the banality of Grindr once since this conversation started. I will pay you the five bucks if you can tell me with a straight face that the ‘average donation’ of $27 is going to save Beto O’Rourke from once again losing in Texas.
He only had the pictures the guy had posted to go off of, and he was smiling in all of them, but Grantaire could still imagine the way he scowled when he replied, Hey, it’s not like I’m the one personally sending you all these emails.
No you’re just harassing me in my safe space, Grantaire shot back.
Which was a stupid thing to say, and he supposed he deserved the derision-laden, Grindr is your safe space?
He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging again on the corners of his mouth. …ok, fair point. Have you noticed that dating has gotten progressively more terrible the older we get?
If the guy noticed his change of topics, he didn’t remark on it. No, but to be honest that’s because I don’t do a whole lot of dating.
That was an intriguing answer to encounter on a dating, or more accurately, hookup app, and Grantaire frowned slightly as he messaged back, Are you a hit it and quit it kind of guy?
My best friend Courfeyrac would land in the hospital with a busted gut if he saw the phrase ‘hit it and quit it’ used in relation to me, the guy replied. No, I just work a lot.
Is this considered work? Grantaire asked, even though he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer, given its potential impact on…well, whatever this was besides the best conversation he had ever had on Grindr.
The broader attempt at getting people to vote? the guy hedged. Technically. This conversation, though? Not so much.
Grantaire grinned. I’d apologize for distracting you from your work, but…
But you’re not actually sorry, the guy finished, and Grantaire’s grin widened. How well he already knew him.
Not even remotely.
Speaking of work, the guy continued, Are you ever going to answer my question?
Grantaire’s grin faded. No.
Why not?
There were a lot of very sensible things Grantaire could message in response to that, many reasons that were at least half-true, including but not limited to a very vocal refusal to believe in any political causes, but he found that for once, he didn’t want to obfuscate or lean on sarcasm. Which was an absolutely insane thing to think about a conversation he was having with a random guy on Grindr who he had never met and almost certainly never would, but Grantaire was fairly comfortable considering himself insane for much lesser things. Because then you might stop messaging me, and this is the fun I’ve had in longer than I care to admit.
The pause between messages probably only lasted thirty seconds or so, but to Grantaire, it felt like a lifetime. Then, finally: What makes you think I’m going to stop messaging you?
Well, that hadn’t been what he expected. The hundreds of other gay idiots you need to convince to vote? he supplied Not to mention you’re probably not even from here. You probably just changed your location settings to a battleground state, which is fine, I respect the hustle, but it does mean that this isn’t exactly going anywhere
Again, a pause that felt painfully long until the guy replied, You’re half-right, at least. I’m not from here. But I didn’t change my location settings. I’m out here working on the senate race
Grantaire made a face. So this may go somewhere, but only for the next two weeks?
Not necessarily, the guy replied. I don’t have anything lined up past November, and my lease runs through the end of the year. And it’s not like this state is going to be less of a battleground moving forward.
Grantaire snorted. You know most people flee from this state, not voluntarily move here and then decide to stay.
I haven’t decided to stay yet, the guy pointed out, and there was another pause before he added, You could give me a reason to, though.
Grantaire stared at his phone, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. A reason to stay?
Yeah.
Like what?
As soon as he sent it, he knew what the answer was going to be, and he preemptively rolled his eyes before even reading the message: Like telling me your vote plan.
Your commitment to the message is honestly admirable.
I’ll pass that along to my comms team, they’ll be thrilled, the guy replied, and Grantaire could almost imagine how dry his voice sounded. But seriously, if I promise not to stop messaging you, will you tell me your vote plan?
Grantaire considered it for a moment. Sure.
Ok, so…
I don’t have one
Grantaire could imagine that at this moment, the guy was in the process of tearing half of his very pretty blond hair out. Why not?
He was so tempted to again keep the ruse going, but just like before, something got the better of him. In this case, a strange desire to put him out of his misery. Because I already voted.
Thank God. I don’t think I would’ve been able to hold up my promise not to stop messaging you otherwise.
Grantaire grinned. Yeah but I didn’t think to take a picture of my dick with my ‘I Voted’ sticker.
You know, the guy replied, I have a friend who works for the county board of elections.
Grantaire arched an eyebrow. Hell of a segue.
My point is that I can probably wrangle up some more ‘I Voted’ stickers. Grantaire again choked on absolutely nothing. If you’re interested, anyway.
…are you really using the idea of me putting an ‘I Voted’ sticker on my dick as some kind of come on?
That depends.
Grantaire’s brow furrowed. On what?
Is it working?
A slow grin stretched across Grantaire’s face, and he decided it was long past time to throw all caution to the wind. Do you want to meet up for a drink?
He held his breath until the next message came in. Tonight I can’t. I have a 6am start tomorrow. The candidate’s doing a press pop on the local morning news.
Grantaire refused to be deterred. What about tomorrow night? You bring the ‘I Voted’ sticker, I’ll bring, well…
Deal.
Grantaire let out the breath he’d been holding in a woosh. I’m Grantaire, by the way.
Enjolras. And I’m really looking forward to meeting you.
Yeah, Grantaire replied, his grin softening. So am I.