Who: Grantaire and Enjolras What: Grocery shopping! When: Wednesday afternoon Where: Walmart, probably, dumb small town Warnings: Nothing! Status: Complete, gdoc
"You act like all I ever eat is sugar," Enjolras protested, the whine in his voice evident as they entered the grocery. Yes, he liked his sugary snacks. He liked them quite a bit. They'd been rare in his time, though less so for someone of his station. And here he didn't have any little street rats to share with.
But that didn't mean he didn't eat real food from time to time. He had just been busy. Shopping hadn't really happened. And...well, there was the small fact that things didn't go well when he cooked. But Enjolras had finally mastered the microwave and didn't that count for anything? He'd even found chicken he could cook in there, once he had learned not to try and cook actual raw chicken.
The smell had finally faded, at least.
Of course, he got it. If they were going to officially live together, especially once he purchased a house, he would need to get better about these things. At least he was relatively clean. But he couldn't depend on or require Grantaire to do all of the grocery shopping. It wasn't fair to him. And Grantaire couldn't be expected to come home and find nothing but frozen dinners and cereal to make for dinner.
Being a twenty-first century adult was exhausting.
***
That whining tone from the passionate leader of a revolution would never not be hilarious, and he didn’t even try and hide his laugh, following the blond into the store. “I do not know how you came to that conclusion. I simply said it would do you good to eat something else, on occasion.” Maybe when it came to healthy choices that made him a hypocrite, but he did not much care for the thought of Enjolras ending up sick.
“We were both there for the aftermath of the chicken. No one needs that in their lives a second time,” he teasingly reminded. That had been something else altogether.
“Besides, I do not mind cooking for you. It is just as easy to cook for two as it is to cook for one.” He would much rather cook more when he actually felt like doing it, anyway. Then he could be lazy on the days that was his preference. He handed Enjolras one of the baskets and picked one up himself, heading down the first aisle. “What else do you like to eat?”
***
"We could have just used a cart," he mumbled, knowing carrying a basket meant he couldn't load up on sodas and other heavy, bulky things. But then, carrying it home… Oh. Maybe Grantaire had a point. He was pretty smart. Enjolras had chosen well.
He looked a bit sheepish and shrugged. "But you shouldn't have to cook for me." Even if his cooking was really good. They hadn't found anything yet that Enjolras hasn't liked. "Spicy things. I really liked that Indian dish at the food thing. We should learn to make some of that."
We. As if he would do anything but stir when he was told and talk Grantaire's ear off.
***
He didn't answer when Enjolras said they could have used a cart, mostly because it had been more of a mumbled comment to himself than anything else.
"What if I like cooking for you?" He challenged. "Did you consider that?" He pulled a bag of corn chips off the shelf he knew Enjolras liked and added them to his basket. He could compromise.
"That one was good," he agreed. "I am sure we can try it. They have sauces you can make them with. Or pastes or something I think they are called." Either way. It would be worth a try. He'd found some of those types of things had recipes on the sides of the jars you could copy.
***
The smile on Enjolras' face was soft and genuine. He wasn't used to allowing anyone to do anything for him. But the fact that Grantaire did… It was nice. It felt good. Like he didn't always have to be in charge of things.
"You make it sound so easy," he teased, his eyes lighting up a bit when Grantaire picked up the corn chips. He was pretty excited junk food wouldn't be completely off limits, at least.
"Do you think they sell that bread that goes with it? The naan?" The event had been good for lots of reasons but teaching him different dishes to eat and try was up there. "And we don't eat nearly enough seafood. It's good for us. Or so I've read," he added laughing. If Grantaire was so worried about his health, he would worry about Grantaire's as well.
Well. Minus the drinking. He'd have to think of how to bring that up one day. But not today.
***
He quite liked that smile. He wouldn't mind inspiring it a bit more often, if he could. "I don't think I make it sound easy, necessarily," he answered, amused, as he picked up a jar to read the label. It was salsa, but one he had not tried. Apparently it was a spicy one. That was reason enough to add it to the basket for Enjolras. "I am simply not opposed to giving it a try," he explained.
"I imagine they will. We can have a look. It was good." The flat bread had gone wonderfully with the curry. "I did not realise you liked fish. It would be good to try some more. I liked that one dish someone made. With the lemon in the fish? That was nice."
The next aisle had canned vegetables, and he picked up a few things he had learned he needed for certain dishes.
***
Enjolras was doing his best to be good and not pick up things he shouldn't have. Though a small bag of chocolate squares made it's way into his basket without even a thought.
"We are French, mon cher, fish is in our blood, I think." Maybe not quite so much as the Spanish. They enjoyed even more types of seafood than he did. But he enjoyed it well enough. "Perhaps some shrimp, as well. I think that looked easy enough even I could do it." Boil shrimp in spices. Add sauce. How hard could it be?
He picked up a bottle of lemon juice, reading the label. "Why wouldn't you just add fresh lemon? Unless you're worse at chopping fruit than I am, and that's saying a lot."
***
It wasn't as though he was going to start telling him off for getting things like chocolate. He was an adult. Most of the time. He could decide what he wanted to eat. It was just that Grantaire thought he should be eating some non sugar things too. That was all. He didn't want him thinking he was trying to make decisions for him.
Being called mon cher, by Enjolras no less, left him with a kind of warm feeling he couldn't quite explain but imagined was accompanied by flushed cheeks or something. It was easy to occupy himself with finding more things to pull off the shelves however. "I am sure you could manage shrimp, Apollo." Worst case they could try it together and see how it went.
"Maybe it is to save time? Or if fresh lemons are not available. This modern world seems very big on convenience and saving time."
***
Honestly, the phrase has sort of simply slipped out. A term of endearment, something deeper than calling him friend, which was his usual go to. They felt like they were in an odd place. He knew Grantaire cared for him. A great deal. But it also seemed like perhaps Enjolras was adjusting to this 21st century relationship thing better than he was. Which was intriguing, considering his own history with relations.
"You say that. You weren't there when I tried to make pasta. That also involves just boiling water and yet…" Smoke detectors were very loud. He was sure they were necessary, in theory, but still. They did not have an option to turn them off when you were simply cooking.
"I was reading about places called food deserts. Where there are no local markets and people often lack for fresh produce. It's rather bleak." Which would have made it a pet cause for him, if he could help cities other than his own. That part was frustrating.
***
He wished he knew how to reciprocate what was obviously a gesture to show him he cared, but he honestly could not come up with the right actions or words. That in itself was confounding, given it was not something he had struggled with before. He thought maybe he did understand why, but he hated to think that was the reason. How could he have a problem with something which he also found so wonderful? Maybe it was just that back home they could never have been so open in what they were doing.
"Considering there is water involved I'm not sure how you managed to create smoke. That is a very unique talent you have discovered." He would have to give him a few pointers, he supposed.
"I can imagine." Bleak seemed the right choice of word. "That does not seem to be a problem here." He led them into the next aisle. "It must be hard for you. To learn about problems with no way to address them." Maybe a little understanding was a step in the right direction? He might not have believed change so easily possible but he knew Enjolras did.
***
"You're meant to add water?" he blurted, putting on his best stunned face. Then he grinned. Because he has at least done that much. "I don't know if you know this, Grantaire, but water will eventually boil down to nothing." Now he really was just teasing. But it felt good. He enjoyed being so laid back with the person he cared for. Especially after being so tense and dark for so long.
It might be the strangest place he could have imagined, but he couldn't deny Madison Valley was good for him.
He sighed, then, shrugging. "It's annoying. I want to help and there's nothing I can do. Even if I used those travel portals, it would still only be for a short amount of time." And they tended to only go to big cities. Those cities didn't need him, did they? Or maybe they did need help, but nothing he could really provide in a weekend's stay.
***
Grantaire shot a sort of baleful glance in his direction as he tossed a bag of pasta into the basket Enjolras was holding. "You are very funny, Enj. Have I mentioned?" It was actually sort of amusing but that was beside the point.
He made a noise of agreement when Enjolras mentioned the portals. They had discussed travelling to places but maybe that would turn out to be too painful for him? Being able to see problems but not fix them? He didn't quite know.
"So we will get fish, and curry and shrimp. What else would you like?"
***
He grinned at the addition of pasta. He wouldn't deny how much he enjoyed the dish. It was a good thing Grantaire was around or he would probably eat himself to death.
Or not, because that would require being able to cook the things he enjoyed.
"First up is Paris, of course," he said, almost to himself as Grantaire hadn't really prompted. "But I want to see the world." Glancing over almost shyly, he added, "with you."
Fish and curry and shrimp and pasta which he assumed would go with the fish or the shrimp and meal planning was not his strong point. "Salad? We should maybe have salad." That was good and healthy, even with dressing.
***
"Salad. Good idea." That was easy, too. Even Enjolras could manage salad. And it would be nice with the fish, maybe. The pasta wasn't really to go with anything. But he'd chosen an assortment of things so far that could also be used in a quick pasta meal.
The thing about Paris he wanted to respond to. Wanted to acknowledge. If he kept ignoring the frankly wonderful things Enjolras was saying he would think he did not care for him at all.
With no one else in the aisle around them he felt comfortable moving closer. He placed a hand on his arm very briefly as he leaned in to speak quietly, relatively close to his ear. "I want to see the world with you, too."
Just as quickly the moment passed and he moved in the direction of the next aisle. "And wine. We'll be needing wine."
***
Well. It was something, he supposed. Enjolras knew how much Grantaire cared. Looking back on the last several months, it was impossible to miss. The fact that they were all but living together and soon, actually would be, meant a great deal, too. But he couldn't help being just a bit disappointed. It wasn't as if these things weren't difficult for him, too. At home, they would hang for the things they did now together. But they weren't there. They were here. They were allowed to be just two young people falling a little more for each other every day.
But those whispered words were something, and he would take them. He didn't miss the chance to brush their fingers together as Grantaire pulled away.
"And just which meal will we be having wine with, I wonder?" Of course, he was teasing. When he wasn't drinking to excess, Grantaire was still perfectly tolerable. More than tolerable. "Remind me to grab soda when we go past it. You have your vice, I have mine."
***
"Why limit ourselves?" He called back as he moved out of sight. He knew Enjolras did not necessarily approve of his drinking. It did not take a genius to work that out. He didn't necessarily see why, though. He didn't see it as a big deal.
"I'm not going to say no. I don't think it is a vice." There was nothing wrong with doing things that made you happy. Life was full of enough pain and regret without denying yourselves small pleasures.
***
It wasn't so much that Enjolras didn't approve. Grantaire was an adult, he could make his own decisions. It was legal for him to do so here so there was nothing wrong with that.
It was the amount. The way he seemed to need it more than want it. It was concerning but he couldn't put his finger on why. And the way his personality changed when he drank to excess. Which Enjolras had to admit, he didn't do nearly as much now.
"It's a sugary drink. You give me so much grief about my sugary foods, I can't imagine you would approve of a drink."
***
It was true that Grantaire didn't drink in large quantities as often any more. Maybe it was that he did not have his regular drinking companions here, or maybe it was that Enjolras did not drink all that much. He hadn't stopped, though. Why should he? He enjoyed it, and he liked how it made him feel.
It certainly felt a lot better than not drinking did.
"That, my dear Apollo, is called picking one's battles. One so fond of debate likely is not familiar with the concept," he teased.
***
His cheeks reddened a bit, but Enjolras was smiling. Honestly, it was nice to hear the Apollo nickname come out in such a friendly way. Most of the time at home it had been said with harsh mocking in the tone. He hadn't enjoyed that at all. It usually just spurred his anger on. Something he knew now had been intentional.
"No, you're right. All battles are good and worthy battles." He grabbed a bag of chips. "We need to get some dip for these," he insisted.
"But no, I see what you mean. Some are much more worth the focus." As ridiculous as his partner could be, he did often make good points. He rather missed that going back and forth they had so often done.
***
"You are nothing if not predictable." He rolled his eyes at the dip comment. "I already got corn chips. And salsa. You are also incorrigible." But he was absolutely going to get away with it too, because he was far too endearing when his cheeks went pink that way.
"Heaven help us when we get to the cakes." When they reached the selection of pre packaged salads he considered the options. "Did you want to make one? Or get one of these?"
***
"You can't just have meals, sometimes you need snacks!" he protested, but he was laughing. This? Was actually really fun. Maybe it was super basic, going shopping with someone. But they had never been close this way. And it was nice. They were practically living together and sharing a kitchen space. It made sense to do their shopping together.
"Mmm. Cake. I should learn to bake." Which they both knew would be a bad idea. But who knew, maybe it would be better than cooking.
He eyed the salad mixes, reading the ingredients. "Some sound good. Let's try one or two?"
***
"I have nothing against snacks. I like snacks." He just liked actual meals, too. He'd discovered he quite liked cooking, which he hadn't really expected. And if it was something he could do for Enjolras, that was even better.
"Maybe you should. Did you try that chocolate cake at the food club? It was incredible." And maybe he could supervise to make sure no fires were started.
He picked up one of the bags. "Caesar? That sounds nice. It has bacon in it. And croutons. I like croutons."
***
"There were lots of desserts. But chocolate cake is very good. Or the vanilla one with the chocolate frosting." Baking seemed to require very carefully followed directions. He could maybe manage that. Leaving room for interpretation was what seemed to get him into trouble.
"It has cheese. You can't go wrong with cheese." He was reading the package over his boyfriend's shoulder, putting him terribly close. Which was probably unwelcome and he took a step back. "We should try that one. We can try one of the others another day." They all sounded pretty delicious, honestly. Some with ingredients he had never heard of. "What are wonton strips, I wonder?"
***
"I liked that one too." Yes, he'd eaten both. He was unapologetic about it, too. It had been a food day, after all. "You could try one of those packet cakes first? See if you like it?" They required buying less things and seemed more straight forward.
"I am so pleased our views on cheese are aligned," he laughed. He realised Enjolras was standing close, because when he moved away he found he missed it. It occurred to him that was probably his fault and he frowned.
Picking up the salad in question he took a step closer to the blond. "Aren't wontons those things like little dumplings? I saw them on the menu from that Chinese restaurant."
***
The way Grantaire moved closer wasn't lost on him. "We're French, I think we are required to like cheese. Wine, too." And both sounded wonderful, honestly. He'd be willing to make a whole meal with just those and some nice thick bread. It felt like home that way.
But he also knew Grantaire had found joy in cooking and he didn't want to take that from him at all.
"I thought so, too, but these look crispy. Oh! They're the things that come with the soup." That made sense. Sort of. He wouldn't have thought to put them on a salad but the crunch was probably nice.
***
"In that case perhaps we should have cheese and wine for dinner." He had some nice bread there they could have with it, too. That was a little bit of home, a dinner like that. He had no objections to the familiar.
"Oh, so they are like crunchy noodles. That sounds nice, then." He tossed the bag in the basket. He saw no issue with them having both kinds of salads. They would find occasion to eat them both.
He touched Enjolras' arm briefly with the tips of his fingers. "Not just sweet foods you know about after all."
***
Enjolras couldn't help the soft smile that crossed his face when he realized Grantaire had the same line of thinking that he had. If this was what being in love entailed, perhaps he'd be fine with it after all. It would just be a little easier if he could convince himself that Grantaire didn't mind the relationship in general.
But would they be there, exploring a store of groceries, if he truly minded? If it had only been about kissing for him, then these more mundane steps wouldn't be necessary. "Just check the expiration. We don't need to be getting sick on rotten lettuce. What would Joly think?" It was nice, actually, having specific dates when things would go bad and get them sick. It made making their meals even easier.
He gave an exaggerated pout. "I told you I eat more than sugar! I also know takeout quite well." Obviously.
***
He had come to learn Enjolras had any number of different smiles, depending on how he was feeling, or what he thought of something. He was enjoying cataloguing them all, and had now brought several to life in sketches. That small, gentle smile may have been one of his favourites. It held a softness he had not previously seen in him, and for that reason he cherished it all the more.
"I am well versed in all of Joly's best lectures. There comes a point where they lose their punch." The impact wore off after a while. "I am sure we won't be troubled by a need to eat rotten lettuce, regardless."
He wondered if he had noticed that he was trying. It was hard, but he was making his best effort. That pout was ridiculous, but so incredibly endearing. "And I shall always rely on your far superior knowledge of all things takeout."
***
For that, he had to laugh. It was probably not something to be proud of. But he knew nearly every option for eating out that Madison Valley had to offer.
"Now you're just mocking me." And he found he didn't mind like he used to. Maybe because now he knew there was love and affection in that mocking.
"Come on," he offered. He wished he were brave enough to take the brunet's hand. Honestly, he thought maybe he was, but he just didn't know if the action would be welcomed. "Let's go pay for all this so we can order takeout cause I'm too tired to watch you cook."