The City That We Loved

All This Bad Blood, Won't You Let It Dry

A/N: Let's do the time warp. (Yes...I've always wanted to say that.) Anyway, so we're about a year later. I would guesstimate modern Fall 1831. We are so close guys!!!! The List is going to start getting shorter soon for those who were concerned *cough* Vialleran *cough*...*sad face* But the good news is that this one is a longer one to make up for the shorties I've been giving y'all. Enjoy!!!!

King Louis Philippe had proven to be as bad a ruler as the king before. Maybe even worse. No not maybe. Definitely worse.

The Amis returned to Paris after the incident the year before. The police had seemed to have lost their interest in them and Enjolras. For now, anyway. Unfortunately, though, Enjolras had been expelled from the university. The others had not. Enjolras had continued working at the bookstore until he could figure out what to do with himself.

He hadn't seen Grantaire since the mansion and he was hoping to keep it that way. He managed to get over his drug addiction with the help of Courfeyrac and Combeferre. He hadn't needed his father or Grantaire as he'd originally thought.

He just needed his brothers.

Just before a meeting at the Corinth one Fall day, Enjolras stopped in at Starbucks--he didn't like the Corinth's coffee as it tasted like shit. The second he saw who was working the counter and he spun around going for the door.

"Well, that was rude," Grantaire muttered. Enjolras felt an overwhelming sense of anger. It had been over a year and he was surprised at how powerful it still was. He managed to keep it at bay. He had come for a coffee and that's it. He wouldn't engage R in any other way.

He turned back around and walked to the counter.

"A grande black coffee please," Enjolras said, his face stoic. Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

"You need to use the bathroom or something?" he asked. Enjolras clenched his jaw. "One black coffee coming right up. Want it in your shoes?" Grantaire smiled at Enjolras but it disappeared when he saw that the other man wasn't laughing. "Sorry."

R wrote Enjolras' name on the cup and handed it off to the person making the coffee.

"How have you been?" R asked.

"I'd rather not, Emile," Enjolras said, not meeting his eyes. "I've come for a coffee and then I'm leaving."

"Is there a meeting tonight?"

"Stop, R. I mean it."

"Fine. Sorry." Grantaire played with the green apron. "I just wanted to know if you've gotten better since...you know..."

"I'm clean, if that's what you're asking." Enjolras was handed his coffee. He wanted to leave and go to the meeting but...he couldn't. Part of him knew Grantaire had done it with the goodness of his heart but the rest of him was too hurt to admit it.

"Are you?" Enjolras asked. He took a long sip of his coffee.

"Clean?" Grantaire laughed. "That's a good one, Enjolras."

"Oh...that's too bad. Uh...I guess I'll see you around then." Grantaire nodded. Enjolras left Starbucks, clutching the coffee close to him as if to warm his cold heart.

The Corinth was right around the corner from Starbucks. Enjolras hadn't realized how late he was until he found that he was the last one to arrive. He removed his jacket and placed it on a chair next to Combeferre.

"Sorry I'm late," Enjolras said. He counted how many people were there. Less than last week. Way less. "It looks like we need to have another rally. Guess we can plan that tonight since we all seem to be here." We meaning the Amis.