pylades_drunk | [backdated to valentine's day, late morning]

When it comes to a slight impatience with the oversaturation of the city with red roses, ridiculous advertisements for diamond rings, and candy, Grantaire can cast a skeptical eye with the best of them. The idea of everyone giving gifts on the same day lacks some poetry, he thinks, and these days it seems as though the love letters don't even have to be composed yourself or remotely serious.

But that doesn't mean that, flush in a new relationship (well, one with a new name, anyway), it's not a good excuse for a surprise.

It's a lazy, freezing-cold Sunday, and so when he gets himself up even Gavroche is still asleep. He leaves him a quick note and donuts waiting on the counter.

And then he heads over to Edgar's, but not without making a few different stops: an box of pastries fresh from the oven, some chocolate, piping-hot coffee. His hands are a little frozen by the time he gets over there, and he's snow dusted. He texts when he's right outside.

Wake up. I promise it'll be worth it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

humanresource

There was shuffling and grumbling on the other side of the door before Edgar yanked it open, rubbing his eyes. Between getting the text and opening the door, he'd not bothered to put on clothes beyond the boxers he'd slept in. "Remind me to give you a key so you can wake me gently," he said, not remotely joking. All the same, Edgar dragged up a sleepy smile for Grantaire and tipped him closer for a kiss.

"Shit, that smells good," he said, taking in the scent of bitter hot coffee and sweet pastry. "Come in."

From:

pylades_drunk

And worth the freezing trek over here, Grantaire thinks, to have one's lover come to the door sleepy and shirtless. Even with his hands full, he manages to coordinate himself enough to wrap an arm around Edgar's waist and kiss him hello. "I'm holding you to that." The idea of exchanging keys is a nice one.

"I told you, it'd be worth it," he says, coming in and shutting the door behind him with his elbow. "Breakfast in bed sound good?"

From:

humanresource

"Sounds brilliant." Stepping backward, Edgar let the door swing closed behind Grantaire and closed in for a proper kiss. The idea of giving Grantaire seemed like a sensible convenience, the obvious progression and not an important and altering step. Why should it?

He lingered there, kissing Grantaire. "You're cold as hell."

From:

pylades_drunk

He relaxes into the kiss, Edgar warm and inviting against him. He should probably put these things down somewhere, but there's just so much positive reinforcement for staying here, and he tangles his free hand into Edgar's hair appreciatively.

"Mm." R represses a bit of a shiver, cold catching up the way it does only once you're warming up, and tucks himself in against Edgar, nuzzling up against his neck. "It's practically Arctic outside. You're warm, though."

From:

humanresource

"Yeah, 'cause I was a sleep." Edgar could only feign displeasure at being woken up. Here was Grantaire, bearing gifts, saying all kinds of lovely things to him before Edgar had even so much as combed his hair. If he'd said it was an inconvenience, he'd have been lying.

"Come on, put that down and get warm," he said, more authoritative than he really was. The cold touch to Grantaire's cheek bothered him and he preferred to see his lover warm and content, far away from any reminder of what his life once was.

From:

pylades_drunk

"Yes, sir," he teases, reluctantly disentangling himself and heading toward the bedroom, setting the pastries down and shrugging his coat and scarf off onto a wayward chair. "I might need some help,though," he says, all mock petulance.

From:

humanresource

Edgar smirked and sidled up to Grantaire and put an arm around his slender waist so they could walk abreast. It was awkward and silly, but it made Edgar laugh anyway. Taking the box, he gestured for Grantaire to take the rest and then led the way back to his bedroom. It was all disheveled, which shouldn't have been embarrassing, but Grantaire had gone to so much trouble to make something nice of today.

"So, what's the occasion? That holiday?"

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire leans into the embrace; it's not easy to walk that way but he finds himself more fond of the gesture for it.

"Do I need an occasion to bring you breakfast?" Grantaire pretends offense and then laughs, ruefully. "My ridiculousness might be excused by Saint Valentine's, anyway." He raises an eyebrow. "And the chocolate."

From:

humanresource

"I suppose you don't," he said but Grantaire hadn't brought Edgar breakfast before. Neither, though, had Edgar thought to bring Grantaire anything before either, breakfast or otherwise.

"Don't really get the holiday, but I didn't have anyone to celebrate last year either." With a grand gesture, Edgar dropped the box in the middle of his unmade bed and gestured for Grantaire to join it.

From:

pylades_drunk

Grantaire has to admit that if it weren't for an overwrought holiday, he wouldn't have thought to venture out early to do something perhaps a little more Edgar-oriented than cards and flowers. But it is just his style to go all in once an idea occurs to him, and he makes a note to do this again.

R kicks his boots off and moves onto the bed. It's still a little warm from having been slept in and he curls into that echo.

"Almost every day is in honor of a saint, if you believe in them," he says. "Holy people who died for their faith and supposedly grant miracles after their death," he explains in case saints are a little foreign to Edgar. He doesn't really believe in miracles himself, or God most of the time. "This one's Saint Valentine's. He married people when it was illegal, hundreds of years ago, so I suppose that's why he's associated with love. There's a Roman tradition around the same time of year that's a fertility and love festival." He spreads his hands. "Even in my time, it was more like it is here. A chance to tell someone you love them, exchange notes and sweets."

"I never really liked it," he admits. "But I never had anyone to spend it with, either."

He glances up, and smiles, self-conscious of his rambling and of the admission. "Chocolate?"

From:

humanresource

"We're supposed to celebrate people who couldn't bother to stay alive?" Edgar asked, playing up his expression of distaste before letting it fade in favor of dropping into bed and tucking around Grantaire. They fit like two scrawny, bony spoons in a drawer and Edgar buried his nose into Grantaire's nape, dropping a kiss there.

"I saw some of it happening last year but I didn't really care much about it. No one to celebrate with and I was still getting over not being dead." Now that he thought was the thing to really celebrate, but he'd spent just about all of his time then stuffing his face and figuring out what kind of shite he and Yona could throw together and cool.

Not that he'd ever mastered chocolate. Edgar reached out and took one, "Hell yes."

From:

pylades_drunk

"Actively decided not to," Grantaire agrees, although it is ironic, probably, for two people who threw themselves into the path of death to make fun of other people doing it. Still, he's pretty much the furthest thing from a saint that there's possible to be. When Edgar wraps himself, warm, around him, he sighs and presses into him, blinking lazily at the kiss. It's so stupidly comforting, being held.

"Mm," he agrees. "Me too." By year, it was two years ago, and by months, more than a year -- the one Edgar's talking about must have only been a few months, in Darrow, before Grantaire arrived here -- but it was still the most recent Valentine's Day he was around for. "There was something -- oh, the island, the whole island turned into another city full of lights and gambling and replicas of other cities. Just all of a sudden. Some people were romantic, I guess. But I didn't have anything like that."

Like this. He settles a hand over Edgar's. A lot has changed in that time.

He grins at the enthusiasm and twists to watch his reaction. The first bite of chocolate is always the best.

From:

humanresource

"Stupid," Edgar said again. He kept his nose pressed there, voice muffled by Grantaire. "And he didn't even put up a fight? What kind of hero is that?" Maybe Edgar had died, but he'd been fighting, part of something bigger. Sure, it had all ended up pointless, but at least he hadn't walked into it like that Valentine idiot.

At least there were more immediate, more real things for him to enjoy, all of which Edgar found vastly more riveting than idiotic martyrs. He reached out and picked a lacquer-colored chocolate, painted with streaks of caramel and took a bite. "Mmm."

From:

pylades_drunk

"Not a very exciting one," Grantaire laughs. Edgar's breath is warm on his neck, and he makes an attempt to reach for the pastries while not moving himself away at all.

He watches Edgar savor the bite and smirks. "You're going to leave me for that truffle," he jokes with a pout, and props himself up to kiss the taste of it off his lips. "Good choice?"

[ooc: just catching up, no hard feelings if you do/don't want to keep tagging!]