(Hi guys! I promise I'll be continuing my other stories after this one. I just really like writing these exR thingies :) Hope you'll enjoy the fic!)

He looked in the mirror for what must have been the hundredth time that afternoon. He didn't look bad per se. Enjolras knew he was an attractive guy, even though he had never given his appearance much thought before. But there was something there that was just… wrong. It was the look in his eyes, it was the sweat that trickled down his back, it was his hair that just wouldn't fall the right way, it was the way his hands were trembling and the way his heart was beating far too fast inside his chest.

He uttered a deep sigh and pulled another hand through his tousled curls. Should he wear his hair down or tie it up in a bun? What made him look better? What would Grantaire prefer? Enjolras let out a small groan and closed his eyes. Why did he even care so much? He never cared about such banal things before. He'd never really put much thought into the clothes he wore or if he smelled okay. Those were things he did not busy himself with. He had much more important things to worry about.

But today was different. Because today he was going on a date. He was going on his very first first date. And he was going with Grantaire. So he had to look good, didn't he? He had to impress Grantaire. He had to make sure that the man was going to want to take him out on a second date. Because ever since he realized that he really liked the cynical artist – which took him quite some time, to be frank –, Enjolras couldn't imagine a life not liking him.

And somehow, this all made him so extremely nervous, nothing seemed to go right that day. From the minute he got up that morning, he was being clumsy. He had dropped two cups of coffee, bumped his little toe against the table, cut himself while shaving, spilled his food and he had verbally lashed out to Combeferre when the man tried to comfort him, which was something he hardly ever did.

Enjolras finally decided on tying his hair into a bun, but yelped the minute he raised his arms to do so. With horror-filled eyes he watched the two dark, wet stains under his armpits. This couldn't be true. He was going to have to change clothes again. Combeferre was definitely going to laugh at him. He had changed his shirt two times already. Once, because he dropped a spoon of the tomato soup that Combeferre forced him to eat that afternoon. And another time, because Courfeyrac had found it necessary to make a stupid comment about his choice of shirt.

"You're going to wear white tonight?" his exuberant friend had asked.

Well, not anymore, no. It didn't matter that Combeferre swore to him that he looked fine. If Courfeyrac said white wasn't the right choice, then he wouldn't wear white, because Grantaire deserved a good-looking date and if anyone knew anything about dressing properly, it was Courfeyrac. Although Enjolras would never admit to that.

It had only been one hour ago that he switched the white shirt for a navy blue one, but now he had to go and find something else to wear again. Because he couldn't go out with sweat stains the size of Paris. At the rate he was sweating, they would grow out to be the size of France, for heaven's sake.

Enjolras cursed under his breath and sprinted out of the bathroom and into his own bedroom. He wormed his way out of his shirt and threw it into the corner. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him that he only had one hour until Grantaire was coming to pick him up. One hour. His heart started to beat even faster when he realized that. It was beating so fast and so loudly, that he had to sit down on his bed to catch his breath.

"What are you doing?"

Enjolras didn't need to look up to know that it was Combeferre standing in his doorway. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. "What does it look like I'm doing," he murmured dejectedly, letting himself fall backwards on his bed. "I'm freaking out…"

Combeferre nodded and entered Enjolras' room, not waiting for an invite. He knew that his friend had not meant the harsh words he said earlier, and he wouldn't let himself feel down about it. If anything, Combeferre felt a little sorry for his younger roommate. For two months Enjolras had been hoping for Grantaire to ask him out, but now that he had, his fearless friend was sick with nerves.

Quietly, Combeferre sat down next to Enjolras and placed a hand on his friend's bare shoulder. When Enjolras opened his eyes to look at him, he smiled warmly, hoping to give the blonde at least some form of comfort. "Why exactly?" he asked gently.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and threw his arm across his eyes in an attempt to block everything out. "You know why!" he said, and if it sounded more like a whine, Combeferre wouldn't comment on it.

"Enjolras," Combeferre began softly, placing both hands on Enjolras' shoulders to haul his friend back up. "You're going on a date. It's supposed to be fun. You should be enjoying this… You've been looking forward to this moment for such a long time, but now that it's here you're acting like you're about to face the end of the world. Get yourself together."

Enjolras attempted to glare at him, but his face soon turned into a grimace and he let himself fall back on the bed again. "It's not that easy, Combeferre. Everything is going wrong and I'm going to screw this up today. I know I will. I have never done this before and I have no idea how I'm supposed to be acting around Grantaire tonight… I mean, what if I'll say the wrong thing? What if I'll start an argument? What if he realizes I'm actually not worth it at all and he just ditches me?"

Combeferre opened his mouth to say something, but Enjolras just kept going.

"What are we even supposed to talk about? I've been trying to come up with something all day and I can't think of anything. We don't have anything in common! And he's going to expect me to be all perfect, deserving of that pedestal he always puts me on. But I'm going to screw it up, Combeferre! He's going to realize that I'm actually not at all the person he wants to date. I can't even wear a shirt!"

Enjolras stopped abruptly when Combeferre placed his hand across his mouth. His friend gave him a stern look, watching him over the rim of his spectacles. "Will you stop?"

Combeferre hauled Enjolras up again and this time, he threw an arm across his friend's bare shoulders. He pressed a chaste kiss against Enjolras' temple and smiled when the blonde melted into his side.

"My friend, you're freaking out over nothing. No, listen to me," Combeferre said firmly when Enjolras opened his mouth once again to speak.

"This is Grantaire we're talking about. The guy has been in love with you for three years. The two of you have gotten into intense arguments and said such hurtful things that still send shivers down my spine when I think about it. You have both seen each other at your worst and you are still in love with each other. That has got to count for something, doesn't it?"

Enjolras swallowed and shrugged his shoulders. It was true, of course, but he wasn't really convinced.

"You need to stop overthinking everything. You don't have to act anything different today then you usually do, because then you wouldn't be yourself and Grantaire fell in love with you. The person you always are when you're with him. I know that this is all very new to you and I know that you're nervous, but I promise you that it will be alright. Let Grantaire lead you tonight, he'll probably be just as nervous as you, but he is the more experienced one in this area and I am certain that he's going to make sure you're comfortable."

"But-," Enjolras tried in a futile attempt to interrupt.

"You don't have to have this evening all planned out. It goes the way it goes. What use is there in thinking about 'what ifs'? You can't predict the future, you don't know what is going to happen, so why would you think of all these doom scenario's? There are only two things that you know for certain: you're going out for diner and you're going with Grantaire, the friend you've known for three years. That's it. And then you'll see where the evening takes you."

Enjolras let out a small breath and nodded against Combeferre's shoulder. It did make sense. Combeferre always made sense.

"It's okay to be nervous, Enjolras. Everyone is nervous for their first date. And even for their second or third date. Even Courf was and he has had plenty of dates. It doesn't matter how experienced you are. It's new and it's exciting and it's a bit scary too, of course. But it's not something you should be this afraid of. You're not fighting the government and you're not going to war. It's just a date. It's going to be fine, I promise."

Enjolras tried to let Combeferre's words sooth his nerves and after a couple of minutes his heart finally started to slow down a little. He mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and ran his hand through his curls. When he realized he still had to find another shirt to wear now that the navy blue one was ruined, he felt that familiar swirl of panic in his stomach again.

"I don't know what to wear," Enjolras admitted quietly, "I keep ruining my shirts…"

Even though he didn't want to find it funny, Combeferre couldn't keep the small smile from his face. He had known Enjolras pretty much all his life, but this was a whole new side of him. And he couldn't help but find it more than a little adorable. The passionate, fearless Enjolras, brought back to an insecure, young boy, because of a date.

"What happened to the blue one?"

Enjolras huffed and shook his head. "It has sweat stains the size of Europe."

This time, Combeferre couldn't refrain from chuckling and it earned him an angry scowl. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad…," he offered kindly, standing from the bed and walking towards Enjolras' closet. "Let's see… You have plenty of clothes in here. Something is bound to be perfect for tonight."

Enjolras pushed himself up from the bed as well and followed his friend. He scanned his clothes, but couldn't find anything that looked appealing. He frowned when Combeferre leaned forward and grabbed a shirt from the back. It was an old one, burgundy red and looked like it had been washed too many times. He hardly ever wore it anymore and he was surprised that of all the clothes he had, Combeferre picked that one. He raised his eyebrows and gave his friend a questioning look.

"You should wear this one," Combeferre said, pushing the shirt in Enjolras hands. "And you can wear this jacket over it, so that there are no sweat stains visible, should you get them again."

Enjolras shook his head. "I can't wear this, 'Ferre. It's old and the colors aren't right anymore…"

Combeferre smiled. "Trust me, my friend. This is the perfect shirt for you to wear tonight, I swear it. Besides, it used to be your favorite, you'll feel comfortable wearing it."

"Yeah, used to be," Enjolras muttered, but he sighed and pulled the shirt over his head. It wasn't like he had anything else to wear and he only had fifteen minutes left before Grantaire would pick him up.

When Enjolras was properly dressed again, Combeferre led him towards the living room and pushed him into a chair. Then he give him a glass of water and a small pill. "Take this. It's homeopathic and it should help to settle your nerves at least a little bit." Enjolras swallowed it without complaint.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang and Enjolras nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. He looked at from Combeferre to the door and back to Combeferre, who only raised one eyebrow and nodded towards their main entrance. "It's your date, Enjolras, you shouldn't keep him waiting."

Enjolras swallowed thickly and nodded, eyes resembling those of a deer staring directly into a car's headlights. He slowly walked towards the front door, knees buckling as he went. When he passed Combeferre, his best friend squeezed his shoulder again. "It's going to be fun, Enjolras. Try to enjoy it."

Enjolras tried to smile, but failed and instead just moved along. When he opened the door, Grantaire is standing on the other side, looking incredibly handsome and not nervous at all. But his lips were parted slightly and he didn't say anything. He just looked at Enjolras. Stared at him. And that's when Enjolras knew he was right all along. This was going to terrible.

"What?" Enjolras asked in a voice too high to be his own. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

But Grantaire just shook his head and took a small step forwards. Then he pressed a soft, chaste kiss against Enjolras' lips and Enjolras could feel the blood rushing towards his cheeks.

"Nothing's wrong… You look absolutely stunning. I just… I can't believe you chose that to wear. Is it a coincidence or did you remember that's the exact outfit you wore the day I first met you?"

Enjolras was struck speechless. He turned towards Combeferre, who just smiled and waved at Grantaire, but Enjolras could see the knowing grin playing at the man's lips. At that moment he felt immensely grateful to have Combeferre as his best friend.

When he felt a hand close around his own, he turned back towards Grantaire and smiled shyly, nodding. He did remember, he just had to be reminded. Enjolras squeezed the larger hand softly and all nerves left his body at once.

"S-Shall we go?" Grantaire asked gently, now sporting a blush of his own.

Enjolras nodded and let out a small sigh. He was convinced now, this was going to be a wonderful evening. "Yes, let's go…"

Both Grantaire and Enjolras kept grinning like idiots for the rest of the night.

(And there's that. Hope you liked it, please let me know!)