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“Are you planning on coming to dinner anytime soon?” Enjolras asked mildly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Grantaire didn’t look up from his laptop. “Uh-huh, sure,” he said vaguely, not shifting from his position coccooned in a blanket on the couch..
Enjolras frowned. “Look, I love a good role reversal as much as anyone, but I have at least gotten to the point where I tell you when I’m going to be too absorbed in my work to eat.” He paused, considering it, before amending, “Most of the time at least.”
Grantaire finally glanced up, blinking at Enjolras as if just noticing him for the first time. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Nothing,” Enjolras said through gritted teeth, knowing damn well that he had no real leg to stand on after the number of times he’d done the same exact thing. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, you’ll like this,” Grantaire said, brightening as he sat up. “This is right up your alley. We’re talking corruption, greed, scandal, potential conspiracy and cover-up—”
Enjolras raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Well color me intrigued,” he said. “Who’s involved?”
“Dunkin’ Donuts.”
Enjolras blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“Dunkin’ Donuts,” Grantaire repeated. “They completely revamped their rewards system and are cheating people out of their rightfully earned free coffee.”
Enjolras took a long moment to reply, and when he did, all he managed to do was repeat, incredulously, “Dunkin’ Donuts.”
Grantaire nodded, his tone turning conspiratorial. “Yeah. It used to be 200 points to get a free coffee, now it’s between 500-900 points. Not to mention, they completely dropped a free birthday drink! Even Starbucks, cursed be its name, does a free drink on your birthday!” He shook his head. “The people will not stand for it. There are gonna be riots in the streets of Boston, just you wait.”
There were many things that Enjolras wanted to say to this, but at least half of them would result in him spending the next week sleeping on the couch, so he again took a moment, this time counting to ten in his head and doing some deep breathing before saying, “So, let me just make sure I’ve got this straight. You’ve been holed up in here for close to six hours now because of Dunkin’ Donuts, a corporation, doing the things that corporations do to make more money.”
Grantaire frowned, clearly picking up on Enjolras’s tone. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah, pretty much.”
“Right,” Enjolras said. “Ok. Well, dinner is ready whenever you are.”
He turned to go, pausing when Grantaire said, his voice calm and extremely pointed, “Huh.”
Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
Grantaire shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just a little surprised.”
“At what?”
Grantaire shrugged again, looking at his fingernails as if they were far more interesting than this conversation. “I figured you would be proud that I was finally taking a stand against something.”
Enjolras gaped at him. “Are you seriously—”
“I mean, you’re the one who always says democracy dies in darkness,” Grantaire said blithely.
Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Firstly, I don’t say that,” he snapped. “That’s the Washington Post’s tagline. Secondly, Dunkin Donuts Rewards is not a democracy.”
“Maybe not,” Grantaire said blithely, “but you do always say something about letting light in.”
If Enjolras ground his teeth together any harder, his dentist was going to give him yet another lecture at his next cleaning. “Yes, to the functioning of our government and especially the political donations that spur the machinations of our elected officials!”
Grantaire smirked at him. “Well, that’s exactly what we’re doing here. We are letting the light in on this asinine decision and we are going to expose Big Coffee.”
“That is absolutely not the same thing,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth.
Grantaire ignored him, choosing instead to misquote the Beastie Boys. “You gotta fight! For your right! To coffee!”
Enjolras took a deep breath. “I love you, but you’re fucking ridiculous.”
With that, he really did leave, using every ounce of self-restraint to not stomp out of the room like the petulant child he knew he was being. He knew Grantaire was kidding, he knew that he had meant everything in a lighthearted, fun way, and yet.
He sat down at the kitchen table in a huff, not even bothering to get the takeout containers from the counter, and pulled out his phone, because nothing soothed the soul like a quick doomscroll through Twitter. A minute or two later, Grantaire sat down next to him, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “I’m sorry.”
Enjolras gave him a look. “No you’re not.”
“No I’m not,” Grantaire agreed. “But we’re busting this thing wide open, I’m telling you. There’s an entire network of pissed off New Englanders who are ready to expose the fat cats at the center of this whole scandal. We’re bringing ‘em down. Dunkin’ will be the people’s coffee once again.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I’m sure they will.”
He sighed heavily and Grantaire nudged him gently. “What?”
“Nothing,” Enjolras said, and when Grantaire gave him a look, he sighed again and said, :Just trying very hard not to imagine what it would be like if people devoted the same amount of energy and attention to, y’know, things that mattered.”
Grantaire nodded slowly. “People, or me specifically?”
“Both.”
Grantaire sighed as well, his smile disappearing. “If it makes you feel better, I am taking this exactly as seriously as I take most Les Amis stuff.”
Enjolras barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, that makes me feel just great.”
For a long moment, Grantaire was quiet, then he reached out to take Enjolras’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “For what little it’s worth, maybe there’s a way to leverage this collective outrage towards something that matters?”
“Like what?” Enjolras asked, a little skeptically.
Grantaire shrugged. “Like, I don’t know, if you’re mad at Dunkin’ now, wait until you learn about their wage theft and union busting efforts. Or maybe an awareness campaign highlighting local, sustainable coffee shops - the real people’s coffee. Or, like, Now do Congress challenge #AmericaRunsOnSunshine.”
Despite himself, Enjolras smiled, just a little. “That’s not half-bad,” he said reluctantly.
Grantaire nudged him again, his own smile returning. “See, now there’s that pride I was hoping for.”
Enjolras leaned in to kiss Grantaire’s temple. “I never needed you to take a stand for anything for me to be proud of you. I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated before adding, “Even if I think your time and energy could be slightly better spent.”
Grantaire kissed him as well. “Pot meet kettle, babe.”
“Fair enough.”
Enjolras knew better than to keep pursuing an argument after they’d both found something resembling common ground, so instead, he looked back down at his phone and what he had been doing before Grantaire joined him. Grantaire cleared his throat. “So, uh, are we actually going to eat?”
“Yeah, in just a moment,” Enjolras said a little distractedly.
“I’ll assume this is your version of petty revenge?” Grantaire asked dryly. “What are you working on that’s so important?”
“Nothing,” Enjolras said vaguely.
Grantaire rolled his eyes and plucked his phone from his hands, his eyes widening as he saw what was on the screen. “Is that change.org petition to change Dunkin’ Rewards back to Dunkin’ Perks?”
“No!” Enjolras snapped, grabbing his phone back. Grantaire gave him a look and Enjolras laughed. “…Maybe. Look, if it’s important to you and it helps shine the light on corporate practices—”
Grantaire’s expression softened and he leaned in to kiss Enjolras once more. “I love you. Idiot.”
“I know,” Enjolras agreed. “I love you, too.”