Les Miserables Short Stories-An ongoing series written by pheelingmusical

Sleepover

 "Cersette..." Marius said in his sleep. Cosette pushed away subconsciously from him, only to draw him closer.

   "Pontmercy-shut up. Some of us are trying to blog here." Eponine was on Tumblr again, blogging hopelessly about love and quotes. Everyone calls her Little Miss. Hipster-her phone case baby blue with the quote, "We accept the love we think we deserve" in cursive letters, her home screen a woman in a wedding dress, zoomed in on the pink bouquet of flowers. She ran a "hipster" blog, they called it, but she refused to believe it.

   "Eponine, lights out. Movie's over-your followers can survive without one cheesy love quote." Joly rolled over in his blanket, farther away from Eponine's phone light the better. She blogged her last quote, "Girls don't always go for the bad guys" and turned off her phone, making sure to give Joly a little push to let him know that she didn't appreciate his snide comment.

   Courfeyrac's eyes were still open-cuddling Jehan and pulling him closer into his chest. He pulled the rubber band on his braid tighter so it wouldn't come apart when he twisted and turned.

   Suddenly, a wild Grantaire appears in only his green skinny jeans and plops down on top of Enjolras on the couch. His smug grin and paint smears signifies that he's been P.W.D., they called it. In other words, painting while drunk. Anything could be on that canvas, and most of the time it was Enjolras.

   "Hello, my dear cutie patootie fee-fai-fo-fooey," Grantaire pulled his blanket on top of him like a cape, found his way up Enjolras' shirt and began rubbing his chest like a mother would rub Vics on her child. Enjolras rolled his eyes, and Courfeyrac could almost hear it.

   "Enjolras?" Courf called.

   "Yes?"

   "Did he do it again?"

   "Uhuh."

   "Let's go check the canvas." Courf sighed and lifted Jehan's head off his chest and onto the pillow.

   "What do you think it is this time?" Courf picked up the clean paint pallets that spilled out of the crafts closet, and stacked them neatly on the shelf. Enjolras found the golden paint opened on the floor, along with red, blue, black, white, yellow.

   "Something blonde." Enjolras rubbed his temples and opened the door to the art studio. The paint on the bottles-all evidence of a not so sober painting.

   "Do you like grapes?" Courf asked, looking at the painting-obviously hiding his laugh.

   "What?" Enjolras turned the easel to see himself, nude but his parts covered by a red flag. Leaning on one elbow, head supported by hand, an outline of a figure dropping grapes into his mouth.

   "This looks like a rough draft." Courf looked to the glass south wall-open to all the city. A painting, bigger than the one on the canvas, covering the whole south wall. Instead of an outline of a figure, there was Grantaire. Feeding Enjolras grapes.

   "Apollo and Dionysus." Courf read. In perfect calligraphy, those words written above the painting.

   "Well, now all of Manhattan knows you and Grantaire have a thing. A thing as in some weird Romans-feeding-their-significant-others fetish." Courf snapped a picture of the painting with his phone."I bid you a good night, Lord Apollo." he snickered.

   "Grantaire..." Enjolras grumbled. Suddenly two arms came around his waist, and a chin on his shoulder.

    "So what do you think?"