Okay yay more shit for you guys to read.

Alright so for this I was reading an E/R fanfic and they were talking about how Grantaire is "ugly" while others go based off the movie guy (GBlags, yum) or other hot versions of Grantaire from the Broadway versions. Therefor, I thought we needed some more of "ugly" Grantaire. Cuz like come on how cute is that tho.

Grantaire was not an attractive man.

He was in some people's minds "hideous" and in other's, "average."

No one found him to be outstanding or gorgeous or beautiful.

This is the story of a beauty and a beast.

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Grantaire was average.

Enjolras was gorgeous.

Grantaire was a drunkard.

Enjolras was a passionate wildfire.

Two men, so different. So very, very different. Yet somehow, they held a bond no one could figure out. Not even their closest friends. Most looked upon the odd couple. They would first notice Enjolras, with his golden locks and piercing blue eyes. His voice oddly encouraging. It made people join the cause. Just to hear him preach his orders and their rights. It was beautiful.

They would then notice Grantaire. He, on the other hand, did not stand out. He was average, not much to look at. With a head of curly black-ish hai, most of his face was usually hidden by the presence of a bottle at his thin lips. However, he too had an amazing voice. It was odd, to hear him talk. Someone so average, so unextraordinary. His voice was like bells. It was amazing. People liked to hear him talk. So did Enjolras.

No one would believe at first glance that these two were together, not in the romantic sense at least. They constantly bickered and picked at each other, and they never seemed to get along. What was the attraction? Where was the affection? No one knew, except for them.

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Sun spilled from the open window, illuminating beautiful blonde eyelashes.

Grantaire was awake. A glance at a nearby clock would show that it was 7 o'clock. This was early for him, but he had been struck by genius. He wanted to draw. More specifically, he wanted to draw Enjolras.

Enjolras was the most beautiful in sleep. Awake, his regal brow was furrowed with worries. But in sleep, he looked serene. His lips were parted slightly in a soft snore, his hair a perfectly woven mess of blonde. Even in imperfection, he was gorgeous.

Grantaire, sketchbook and pencil in hand, he began. His Apollo was lit up by the sun, right where he needed to be. Had he not been so calmly asleep, Grantaire would want to touch and kiss upon that gorgeous bone structure.

No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't draw him. Was it the fact he was too perfect? That no one could ever replicate him? Grantaire questioned religion constantly, but whoever made Enjolras was a God indefinitely.

A stirring, a low rumble from the blonde beauty, made Grantaire start. The sleeping beauty was awakening, kissed by sunshine.

"Good morning amore." Grantaire murmured, leaning over to kiss his Apollo's cheek.

Enjolras made a strange noise between a hum and a grunt. He hated mornings. Being the obediant boyfriend, Grantaire retrieved his morning coffee and handed it over to the less-than-awake Enjolras.

After ten sips, he was good to go. Grantaire glanced at his sketch, then at himself. "...Enjolras, I know you don't require glasses. Why would you pick this-" He gestured to himself. "Over...over some little hottie like Joly or Jehan?"

He was met with a contemplative look. This worried him a bit. Enjolras finally answered in a calm matter:

"I myself had never believed in love. I believed in Patria and France and revolution. I didn't think it was useful. I am not one for uselesness. Creating this revolution with the Les Amis, I have seen many of my fellows with women and men alike, and one day I asked Jehan how you knew when you fall in love. He told me, "Love is the feeling of butterflies. Like a thousand live in your belly every time you see someone." Since then, I was slightly curious. I watched our friends fall in love. I wondered. I listened to couples. I observed. And one day you walked in the door, I got those butterflies. I don't remember when they started, and they haven't ended. As for "this," I have no use for useless things. Jehan also told me that "love is loving someone for who they are and wanting to spend the rest of their life with them." Therefor, Grantaire, I do not care about your looks."

There was a moment of silence.

"My Apollo. So generous, so kind. So thoughtful." He gave him a kiss, of which Enjolras pushed him off the bed for.

"Go make me more coffee."