A/N: Modern!E/R goodness this time around. Also unedited and rather spur of the moment, so have fun.

Courfeyrac's parties scared him, to be honest. A bunch of college kids crammed in the Courfeyrac's living room over spring break and under the youngest Courfeyrac's supervision alone meant literally nothing but trouble. Grantaire was almost certain that if you looked it up in the dictionary, you'd just get his friend's face winking mischievously at you.

Most of Courfeyrac's parties involved his father's store of beer, especially this one, with his parents out of the town and the house to himself. Grantaire was the drinker of our group of friends, but the only exception was when Courfeyrac was the one offering up the alcohol. He'd only taken one, and he could already feel the buzz in his brain. No more.

Courfeyrac, on the other hand, was as good as gone- worse than him for once, which was definitely a change of pace. "Come on, R!" he slurred, latching onto his arm with a devious grin. "We're playing seven minutes in heaven and there's no way in hell I'm letting you out of this one." Grantaire was one to skip the ridiculous (and often sexual, thanks to Courfeyrac) games they played at parties like this, but Courfeyrac was a determined friend, and being the center of the group, wanted to make sure everyone was having fun, and everyone was participating.

The last bit was his problem.

But he had no time to protest. Courfeyrac was already dragging him to the misshapen circle of their group, plus Joly's girlfriend, Chetta, and some other girls- most likely Courfeyrac's exes, who were always easily convinced to come. They were nice girls, but too perky for Grantaire's tastes. Besides, had he not had his eyes on another…

Before he could finish the thought he was roughly shoved into a sitting position by Courfeyrac, in between himself and Jehan, who was subtly trying to scoot away from the game. Grantaire leaned over to whisper to him, "You're not making a break for it without me."

Jehan snorted. "On three, then?"

Courfeyrac promptly jumped into the middle of the circle, producing an empty beer bottle. "Everybody gets to spin the bottle, and no matter who it lands on, you're stuck in the closet with them for seven minutes. No evidence, no bueno."

He set the bottle down, and the circle's inhabitants began to murmur to one another. Grantaire shrugged.

"Alright. One."

A knock came at the door. Courfeyrac leaped toward it, grabbed the wall so he wouldn't fall over, and opened it.

"Two."

Enjolras walked inside.

"Three."

Jehan darted away from the circle and up the stairs to hide in Courfeyrac's bedroom, but Grantaire remained frozen where he was, eyes fixed wildly on Enjolras. What was he doing here? He never came to parties- they were a waste of time, they distracted from his school work and his reform planning. What had Courfeyrac done to convince him?

"You're just in time, Enj, we're playing a game!"

Enjolras looked less than amused. Clearly this wasn't his idea. "Don't make me regret coming at all."

Instead of responding, Courfeyrac proceeded to drag him on over to the circle and seated him nearly right across from Grantaire, who was still staring with an intense fascination. He was as angelic as ever, from what he could see in the darkness of the living room, with his golden hair slightly disheveled, his red jacket hanging open to reveal a white v-neck. His eyes were scanning the circle, and Grantaire quickly dropped his gaze before they could've met his own. Those eyes would've been his undoing.

"Alright, Enj, you spin first!"

With another glance around the group, he turned to Courfeyrac disdainfully. "I hardly know what you're even playing."

"You'll catch on!"

Heaving a sigh- resistance was futile- Enjolras picked up the empty bottle and spun it.

Grantaire's heart suddenly began to pound, so hard and so fast that he thought everyone in the room might hear it, especially Enjolras. At that moment the bottle stopped, but his heart only gained speed. It was going to explode, and he'd almost rather it would. Then he wouldn't have to face such humiliation mixed with pain mixed with some utterly divine, lightheaded feeling.

The mouth of the bottle was just barely pointing toward him.

This time their glances did meet, his eyes wide in whatever emotion he could hardly describe that he was feeling, and Enjolras' swimming with confusion. The poor man didn't even know what was going on.

Courfeyrac eagerly leaped to his feet, grabbing the both of them and towing them to the coat closet down the hall. "Alright, you two, you have seven minutes!" Did he realize who he was setting up? Grantaire couldn't tell, but he secretly hoped that drunkenness was clouding his reason. Maybe he wouldn't remember. Maybe nobody would remember.

He would. Enjolras would.

Damn it.

Courfeyrac briefly let go of the two to fling open the closet door and shove aside the few coats it held plus one vacuum. "Have fun, boys," he sang, giving them a little shove toward the closet and, as soon as they'd even set foot inside, shut the door.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Grantaire leaned on the wall opposite Enjolras, trying to find his form in the darkness. A sliver of light shone through the cracks in the door, and he could vaguely see the remorse on Enjolras' face. His eyes flickered up to meet Grantaire's.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, turning his gaze to the door.

Enjolras sighed. "It isn't your fault." A pause. "I wouldn't, um, suppose…" He reached for the doorknob, trying to turn it and push the door open, but the action was fruitless. The door had been locked from the outside.

Well played, Courf. Well played.

Another tense silence fell over them, and only the chattering of their friends in the background filled it at all.

"So there's no way we can get out of this?"

He sighed, shaking his head regretfully. "Courf's orders. 'No evidence, no bueno'."

Another pause. Grantaire's eyes were now beginning to adjust to the darkness, and he could see Enjolras' mind working, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. They were running out of time, for which he was thankful for, but out of excuses too.

"I suppose, then," Enjolras began, speaking slowly and deliberately, as if wording his thoughts as they occurred, "if we are merely appeasing Courfeyrac…"

Grantaire blinked. He'd been anticipating rejection, embarrassment- which was still highly probable- and the exact opposite of this. "I, uh… I'm game if you are."

For a moment nothing happened. When Enjolras finally moved, it was only to pull out his phone to check the time- which allowed Grantaire to really see his face, and his breath hitched, but he prayed Enjolras wouldn't notice. "Five minutes."

Enjolras put his phone away, and another moment passed. Grantaire's eyes darted between Enjolras and the door. "If you don't want to-"

"It's fine."

Grantaire was now fully relying on the wall for support, so much was the tension killing him. His eyes fell on Enjolras', and he knew Enjolras could see him now, because he was moving closer and hell if his heart wasn't thudding in his ears now.

Everything was a heavenly blur from there, because Enjolras' lips were on his, Enjolras was kissing him, Enjolras' hands had settled somewhat nervously on his waist, his soft lips were pressed against his, and if that wasn't the most perfect, most blissful, most wonderful sensation in the world, he didn't have a clue what was.

It was all he could do not to return the kiss with as much fervor as he wished he could, but his hands latched onto Enjolras' jacket to very subtly tug him closer, and he could feel Enjolras stiffen, but that went away in seconds and suddenly Enjolras was pressing him back against the wall, Enjolras' tongue was prying at his lips, and his lips were parting like his life depended on this kiss, on this experience, on him. It was awkward, it was sloppy, but it was wonderful, and he wouldn't trade this moment for anything else.

He didn't know how long they remained like this, or when he'd wrapped his arms around Enjolras' neck, or when Enjolras had pressed them against each other, or when he'd given Enjolras a hickey, or when it ended and started all over again, and honestly, he didn't care. It happened, albeit in a closet because they were forced to, and that was enough. Enjolras certainly couldn't have meant for it to get this out of hand, or he doubted it would've happened at all.

Eventually the kissing ceased, but Enjolras didn't move away, and that was fine with him. His eyes, widened with awe, bore into his suddenly softened blue ones. Keeping his arms firmly around his waist, Enjolras ducked his head into his neck, and he could feel his breath against his skin, feel his lips brush against the crook of his neck, and he couldn't help the whimper that escaped his lips. "Enjolras…"

"You're not going to stay, are you?" Enjolras murmured into his neck, then lifted his head, suddenly serious.

He blinked. "Not if I can help it."

Enjolras nodded, and though seeming to have just realized that he hadn't quite let go of him yet, did not do so, instead leaning his forehead against his. "We could sneak out the back once he lets us out."

His eyebrows crinkled together. "If you didn't plan on staying, then why did you-?"

Enjolras never quite answered, for right then Courfeyrac opened the door, a giddy grin on his face. But before any remarks on his part could be made, Enjolras took hold of Grantaire's hand and rushed out in the direction of the back door, Grantaire following in mute awe.

All they heard before the door closed was an indignant Courfeyrac shouting after them, "Well, you're welcome!"