Aithor's note: This is a sequel to Worth of a Man and, like in the original story, I will have to ask you to suspend disbelief. I am not even trying to pretend this is truthful or realistic in any way. After all, it is the sequel to a fairytale about gypsy magic and true love's kiss. Draw your own conclusions. It is no masterpiece. It is also basically fluff. It was started a while ago as a present for Sythar (and is therefore dedicated to her, love you dear) who wanted to see Adrien and Nicolas arguing. They will indeed do quite a bit of that here. It is based on one-word prompts taken from a random word generator. Let's see what I can make of them.

1

Footstep

Eugenie-Aurorette Odile Noella Antoinette Enjolras was nine years of age and her parents had died the previous year. Her father had been Adrien Enjolras's second cousin. Since her parents' death she had been living with her mother's sister and her family. In a year she had managed to drive them all insane. Now the family was expecting a new baby and they could no longer be bothered to take care of an orphan who was, on top of all, said to be a terrible brat. Therefore she was now being sent to the only living relatives left who were prepared to take her – Adrien's parents. Her aunt's husband had promised to take her to Paris and no further. Enjolras' mother had taken that as a great excuse to make her son visit under the guise of bringing the child to their country home.

This was what little Nicolas Grantaire had managed to learn from his partner about the little cousin that he was supposed to pick up today and house until he could afford the time to travel to his parents' home. Adrien had arrived with the girl not an hour ago and Nicolas had had the chance to gather some more impressions. She was an ugly little thing and far too scrawny for such a fat and pompous name. Her skin was pale but had none of Adrien's porcelain glow and her hair was a dull brown. Her eyes were a greenish-gray colour that made Nicolas think of the depths of the Saine. She held no resemblance to what he had seen of the Enjolras family at all. Hell, she was more reminiscent of him!

He also learned that she was a fast runner. She thankfully did not posses a loud voice but used what she had to its full capacity. She was in little position to do any real harm to either the house or its inhabitants but she tried very hard. She had run into almost every room and thrown whatever she could find at her hosts before she had slammed the door of the room they had intended for her, almost breaking Nicolas's fingers and still screaming at them that they were stupid and she hated them.

He looked up at Adrien and grinned.

"Charming."

Adrien huffed in irritation.

"I am terribly tempted to lock her in her room. I'm definitely locking our door tonight."

With that vow, he pushed Nicola's wheelchair quite unceremoniously towards the bedroom.

"Hey!" Nicolas gripped the wheels, causing them to screech to a stop. He tilted his head back to raise his eyebrows at the upside-down image of Enjolras. "Can I choose my own direction, please? Or am I just the helpless cripple who doesn't get a say? What if I want to stay in the parlor?"

"If you want to choose your direction, you can bloody well walk," Adrien answered flatly. "Combeferre tells me you can."

Nicolas groaned.

"A few steps at a time, Adrien! Not actual walking."

"A few steps is a few steps. When am I going to see you make them?"

Nicolas twisted around to give him an exasperated look.

"Maybe never. I said I'd try, not that I would work a miracle. Leave me alone, will you?"

"No."

"Right."

He rolled the wheels forcefully backwards. The chair moved, forcing Adrien a few steps back as well. Nicolas grinned.

"Not quite the helpless cripple, I fear. So will you leave me alone or do I run you over?"

"My apologies but you made me swear I would never leave you alone. Don't intend to be run over either."

A shove forward. Nicolas blocked it again and looked up at him once more with an only slightly cynical expression.

"Tired of sharing a bed with a cripple?"

Adrien rolled his eyes.

"Trying to guilt me into submission, are you? That trick's getting old. You know very well why I insist and I know that you know."

Nicolas sighed, losing the sharpness in his expression, and smiled as a peace-offering.

"You never were the patient kind… Some day, Adrien. Maybe. I'm working on it but no one ever promised results."

Adrien Enjolras, the newest member of the Parliament devoid of his severe coat and hat looked more like an elven king and no older than nineteen. He pouted for a moment and then sighed. A sigh that acknowledged retreat but never defeat. Adrien rested his elbows on the backrest of the chair and leaned forward, blond curls tickling Nicolas' neck.

"Have it your way, you stubborn sod. I know you only do it to irritate me. See if that works."

Nicolas's chuckle was interrupted by a kiss which was broken a second later.

"So I'll let you go and sit in your parlor then," Adrien said with perfect seriousness. "Far be it from me to deny anyone the freedom of choice. Unless, of course, you've changed your mind…"

Nicolas grinned.

"I think I could be persuaded with a few well-chosen arguments."

"Very well. The parlor is much too cold right now. There is not much to do there. Anyway, you're tired. And you had no intention of going there in the first place – it was only brought up so you could oppose me."

Nicolas laughed.

"Much as it pains me, I can find no holes in your reasoning, fearless leader. Bed it is, then."

"Ah."

Adrien smiled and walked towards their room, leaving Nicolas to follow him. "Look at the state of this!" the blond complained upon entering, indicating the carpet. Much like in all other rooms tonight, a slight redecoration had taken place here. That is to say, their little guest had left smudged mud stains all over, and one particularly clear small muddy footprint. "How did she even manage to drag that much dirt with her?" Adrien muttered sounding rather peeved indeed. "Oh yes, probably because she spent every second when she was not in the fiacre jumping into various puddles!"

"It's just a dirty carpet, Adrien," Nicolas tried to soothe him, once again amused but attempting not to show it. "Mme Moquin will clean it tomorrow."

"I might as well clean it myself while I'm here. No reason making Mme Moquin perform a task I am perfectly capable of performing."

Nicolas very nearly growled.

"Fine. I will allow you to clean carpets all you want tomorrow morning so you can feel on level with the common Parisian worker. But for God's sake don't insist upon doing it now. We won't die from a little mingled dust and water and in any case it will be easier to clean when it's dry. In fact, you would do better to clean yourself instead right now, seeing that you are no less muddy."

Adrien cast an annoyed glance at his once-white shirt and barely-blue vest and even dirtier dark trousers.

"The little brat attempted to kick me the whole time!"

Nicolas felt the smile tugging mercilessly at his lips and laughter babble somewhere in his stomach. Watching Adrien deal with the screaming child with a perfectly cold-marble-statue-like expression and poised and dignified while being at the same time obviously furious and a little disheveled from chasing her around… Well, it had been terribly entertaining. Who would have ever thought anything like this would befall the greatly esteemed hero of the French Republic? But here it was, all this havoc caused by a little girl.

While they were both preparing for bed, his eyes kept getting drawn towards the footprint. It was so small, left by little feet making little footsteps, and it looked so strange in their room that it might as well have been left by some fantastic creature. Perhaps a dwarf, Nicolas thought. A dwarf which had snuck into the bedroom to steal… what? His lover's golden hair? He chuckled to himself.

As Adrien plopped tiredly next to him and rested his head on his shoulder, he closed his eyes thinking that he would probably dream of sulking, shouting, muddy dwarves now. But at least his morning promised to be interesting.

End Note: Reviews are gratefully appreciated.