enjolras walking into the café with hickeys and literally everybody getting up and giving some amount of money to courfeyrac
and then grantaire comes in with his hair ridiculously messed up his shirt riding up on one side and he gives money to courfeyrac
(Oh man am I into such things. Robots and androids in fiction foreverrrr. However this ended up with Combeferre being the mechanic and Enjolras being a robot rights activist and R being … well, himself, but with more metal.)
Combeferre is finishing with a patient when Enjolras arrives, the low hum of voices over the sound of the welder cluing him in before he pushes aside the curtain that leads to his workshop. “—careful with yourself,” Combeferre finishes admonishing when the welder shuts down.
"Aren’t I always?" Enjolras knows the sound of false innocence, mostly because of Courfeyrac, but it’s strange to hear it from an android. He doesn’t question their ability to feel emotion like too many people do, but he isn’t used to them bothering to obfuscate for humans. "And even when I’m not, I can always be patched up. Thanks, doc, the leg is feeling much better."
"You can’t be patched up if the Jondrettes decomission you, R, Eponine is trying, but if you keep acting with reckless disregard for—"
"Gavroche was in danger. It’s in my programming to help."
That’s as good as a door slammed on the conversation, and Enjolras clears his throat, unwilling to eavesdrop any more on a stranger’s conversations. “That will be Enjolras,” says Combeferre.
"Right," says R with surprising amounts of scorn for someone Enjolras has never met before, and then, in loathing tones, "The one who’s going to make it so much better for us all."
"I’m going to try, anyway," says Enjolras, because he can’t very well pretend not to listen now.
"I’ll come out and meet you in a minute, just let me get my circuits covered, the good doctor’s been making sure I’m in top shape to get back to work." There are a few seconds of clicks and shifts, Combeferre putting his tools away and R (impossible to tell what his class or designation is based on that alone) getting himself fit for company.
Combeferre is the one who bats the curtain aside to invite him in with an apologetic grimace. The android in the chair is fiddling with the set of his leg, and he looks up too-quick at Enjolras, not moving slowly to spare his human instincts and sensibilities, which makes Enjolras like him even if it’s a move clearly calculated to throw him off-balance. “R, this is Enjolras. Enjolras, R—he’s with Eponine’s family. I think she’s mentioned him.”
"Well, you’re certainly pretty enough for the news," R says, and stands up, testing the weight on his leg and then relaxing into something that’s almost a slouch. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be home to make dinner." He strolls by Enjolras, the electricity making the hair on his arms rise, and gives Combeferre a nod before he disappears up the stairs, going too fast again for either of them to bother calling after him.
my brother was an artist and he used to say ‘artists paint a certain thing until they hate it’ and it made me think about the fact that grantaire would paint enjolras alot and maybe it was in hopes that one day he would hate him but in the end grantaire just loves him so much more.
i hate it when you’ve got a thing for a dude and like one day you’re joining his revolution because you’re in love with him, then next thing you know you’re holding hands and dying for him like
i just wanted to hang out with you this escalated quickly…
modern AU where Enjolras is never not in a blazer for some reason even when it’s hot he’s just in a constant and inexplicable state of smart casual
then one day he lends his jacket to Grantaire and when R turns around he can see Enjolras’s ELBOWS and the shape of his shoulders and the soft crease of his rare T-shirt pulled across his breastbone and every cell in his brain simultaneously dissolves into dust