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Enjolras had never liked kids. Even as a kid himself he had done his best to avoid as many as possible. There had been a few exceptions, but mostly kids were just really very irritating.
As an adult, he liked them even less. They always seemed to be snotty little things that threw tantrums in the supermarket; kicked the back of his seat on the train; stared at him whilst they picked their nose; and made far too much noise in libraries.
Babies were just as bad. They just didn’t do anything.
To put it simply, kids had never featured in his life plan - they would be a burden at rallies and interrupt his work. Besides, it’s not as though had all the necessary equipment for baby-making anyway.
But his friends saw things differently. As time went on, babies became an increasingly frequent topic of discussion. He mostly blamed Cosette for this. And Grantaire’s sister. Especially Grantaire’s sister.
About nine months or so before, Grantaire’s sister had got pregnant. This news had been announced to them all by Grantaire, loudly proclaiming to the entire bar that “Uncle R has arrived, I request, nay, demand that you all toast me with the finest champagne! Or reasonably-priced sparkling wine, I’m not fussy!”
Half an hour later, Enjolras had given the evening up as loss, as Eponine and Cosette had started discussing baby names whilst Jehan looked up the meanings on his phone. He had tried to leave quietly, but Grantaire spotted him before he made it to the door.
“Enjolras, come back here and celebrate with Uncle R, or I’ll put you on the naughty step.”
Enjolras tried to hide a smile with a sigh.
“Are you going to insist that we all call you Uncle R from now on?”
“Uncle R likes that idea!” Grantaire cheered, clearly just on the border between merry and flat-out drunk.
“Well, if Uncle R will permit it, please may I go home as I have an early meeting tomorrow?”
Enjolras didn’t miss the way Grantaire’s grin slipped a little before he replied.
“Fine, Uncle R will let you leave early but you’ll have to have detention tomorrow afternoon.”
“I think you’re confusing uncle with teacher.”
“I’m Uncle R; I’ll do what I like!”
Grantaire’s grin after that was blinding and so full of joy that it almost made Enjolras’ stomach feel a bit fluttery. Maybe.
From then on Uncle R would keep them all very up to date with his sister’s progress. Perhaps in more detail than was strictly necessary, but he always looked so happy about it that Enjolras really hadn’t the heart to tell him to stop. And of course Cosette ate up every word he said, before shooting significant looks at Marius.
Grantaire also shared pictures of the mural he was painting in the baby’s nursery. The sheer amount of effort he was putting into the grass and the clouds and the animals kept giving Enjolras that fluttery feeling again. Although he tried to put it down to the paint fumes coming off Grantaire’s clothes.
Then a few weeks ago Grantaire’s sister gave birth to a baby girl, and Eponine had bullied Enjolras into writing his name on an overly pink card and contributing some money towards a weird-looking stuffed toy that was possibly a cow or maybe a hippo – he couldn’t tell and didn’t like to ask. Eponine had the best death-glare he had ever had the misfortune to be the target of.
So far though, Enjolras had managed to not actually meet the baby. This was through a combination of luck and deliberate avoidance. He hadn’t missed the photos though. Grantaire and Cosette had made sure of that - either by shoving them under his nose at any opportunity, or by filling up his Facebook feed. He would smile and say very nice, and try very hard not to look too bored, or say that once you’ve seen one baby, you’ve seen them all. Well, not again at least. Cosette’s wounded look and Marius’ reproachful glare were bad enough the first time.
At some point though, he knew his luck was going to run out. He just didn’t think it would happen in his own living room on a rainy Thursday evening.
The sight that met his eyes when he opened the front door was definitely not one that he expected. For a second, Enjolras even contemplated checking he’d gone to the right flat.
Grantaire was sat in the armchair in the living room with the baby on his lap. There was a rare look of contentment on his face, which Enjolras had only seen a few times before, as he gently sang a low lullaby.
The blissful domestic picture made Enjolras’ heart thump loudly in his chest and his stomach do flip-flops. Without consulting him, his brain suddenly provided a series of images of Grantaire holding a baby in their house - either in a nursery that Grantaire had decorated beautifully, or in front of a roaring log fire. Images that normally left him feeling a bit queasy at their fake ‘Happy Families’ vibe, but this time sent warm shivers down his spine.
“You’d make a great dad,” he blurted out, as clearly his brain was not consulting his mouth either.
The sudden outburst made Grantaire look up and give him a smile that really did not help the flip-floppiness of his insides.
“Hello there Enj, and umm, thank you, I suppose.”
“Grantaire, why are you in my house with a baby?”
“Well, there are a number of factors that include paint fumes and Bahorel at my flat, Ferre said we could and my sister having her haircut in town. She won’t be long now.”
“Oh, OK. I mean if Ferre said it was alright then…” Enjolras, was not usually one to be lost for words, but couldn’t seem to find the end of that sentence and just trailed off as he stared at Grantaire.
“Come over here and meet her.”
“Who?”
Grantaire rolled his eyes and gave a low chuckle.
“The baby you idiot! My niece, I know you’ve been avoiding her.”
Before Enjolras could open his mouth to protest that he had just been incredibly busy lately, the baby started to whimper. Grantaire hushed her and began singing softly again. The whimpering stopped as the soothing tones of Grantaire’s voice filled the room. Enjolras felt calmed by the seemingly gentle lullaby as well, and then he listened to the words. They sounded an awful lot like Literally.
“Is a song about pillaging Vikings really an appropriate lullaby, R?”
“It was in my head,” Grantaire shrugged, “and she seems to like it. And so did you judging by your smile. Anyway, I don’t know many lullabies, so how about…”
He paused as he tried to think of something less gory, and then began to sing I Got You Babe in the same relaxing tone. Enjolras sank onto the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Mmm that is nice actually. I bet it would be even better if you stroked my head like you’re stroking the baby’s too.”
The singing stopped mid word. Enjolras quickly opened his eyes – his brain was really not connected to his mouth this evening. Grantaire was staring at him with an expression of shock, mixed with something else that he couldn’t quite make out. The staring continued, so Enjolras leapt up and practically sprinted down the hall to his bedroom, where he sat on the bed and put his head in his hands. He was worse with feelings than he was with kids.
A few minutes later Grantaire knocked on Enjolras’ open door.
“Enj, you OK?”
Enjolras looked up at the man in his doorway cradling a baby to his chest. That infuriatingly complex man with that hair and those hands and those eyes and that smile.
“No. I never wanted kids.”
Grantaire frowned slightly.
“Right, OK. Odd answer.”
“And then I see you there with that, that baby, and my stomach does that fluttery thing you make it do and I imagine you in a nursery and it seems - you seem so natural and perfect and suddenly my world feels upside down and then you smiled and you sang and it was lovely and homely and I felt jealous of it, I mean the baby, because I wanted your hands on me instead and…”
The words all tumbled out of Enjolras’ mouth before he could, or even wanted to stop them. Grantaire just stood there looking slightly bewildered.
“I make your stomach fluttery?”
Enjolras nodded.
“I wish you’d told me this when I didn’t have my arms full of baby. This is, uh, I mean… wow. Me? Are you sure? Umm… right. Yes. Umm… do you think we can continue this when my hands are free?” Grantaire rambled.
Enjolras smiled at him and decided that having Grantaire’s hands all to himself would be very nice indeed.
“I think that can be arranged,” he said as he walked over to Grantaire and placed a firm kiss on his lips.
The baby gurgled in approval.