Shortly after midnight, Grantaire stumbled into the Musain, bruised and bloody. The back room was quiet as he collapsed into his usual corner to nurse his wounds, and his bruised ego. Even while drunk, he was normally quite a good brawler, but tonight the stars were against him. His original antagonist had found friends, and he was just on the wrong side of drunk to defend himself efficiently. Grabbing a spare napkin, Grantaire began to dab gingerly at a swelling bruise decorating his jaw. Well, that was hardly going to improve his already humble looks.

"Grantaire?" A sudden voice intruded into his thoughts, and a new hand knocked his own aside and grasped his chin, tilting his head. Grantaire blinked blearily up into a pair of blue eyes framed by waves of gold. Enjolras, materializing like a god out of the fog of drink and pain, dropped down onto one knee in front of him.

"What happened here?" Enjolras asked, as he pressed a napkin-wrapped pack of melting ice against the bruise.

"A fight. Lost. When did you get here?"

Enjolras snorted delicately, grimacing a bit against the waft of old alcohol, and shifted Grantaire's head into a better position to examine his injuries.

"Somehow, I am not surprised. Was the reason an important one? And I've been here for some hours, you're the one who just arrived." As he spoke, Enjolras continued to minister to the scrapes and bruises speckling Grantaire's face. Grantaire could only stare, wondering if he had in fact been knocked out with the last blow, and was now dreaming that his idol was with him. Finally, Enjolras' question registered in his brain, and he decided that he might as well answer. If this were a dream, it was certainly a nice one - best to prolong it.

" 'E insulted you. Called you a pretty ornament. I hit him. He and his friends his back."

Enjolras' hand paused its dabbing. "Oh. Well, thank you then, I suppose." And then, Grantaire half heard him mutter, "I think I shall never understand you fully."

Before Grantaire could ponder that last bit, the strong hands shifted to under his arms and began hauling him to his feet. Once standing, Enjolras maneuvered one of Grantaire's arms over his shoulder, and slid his own around Grantaire's waist.

"Come on, then. I don't think anything is broken, although I can call Combeferre or Joly if you like. If your fight started over me, the least I can do is take you home and put you to bed." He began half-walking, half-dragging his burden out the door.

Grantaire leaned into the blond, enjoying Enjolras' closeness and brusque care. For such an awful start, this night was improving rapidly. Still not quite sure that this wasn't all simply a wonderful dream, Grantaire relaxed and submitted himself happily to Enjolras' will.