Shayne first met Grantaire at a bar, stinking drunk. He'd finally been dumped by his third girlfriend, Galinda. He rarely had girlfriends- passing amusements, yes, friends with benefits, sure. Girlfriends? Rarely. And Galinda dumped him.

He couldn't blame her, really, not with his reputation. But like the typical heartbroken Shayne he was, he'd gone drinking himself into an oblivion at a new place called the Corinthe- new to him, for her rarely ventured far away from hometown bars- and that's where he met Grantaire.

The two hit it off instantly. Drinking contests took place- Shayne won the shots of vodka, but Grantaire reclaimed his drunkard's glory in shots of absinthe, beers were bought, and Shayne ended up towing Grantaire home, both singing loudly and badly, but neither quite sure what it was they were singing.

Shayne awoke in his own home with a pounding headache, but he hardly had any regrets. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

~ ;) ~

It was only a matter of nights out before Shayne had been introduced to Courfeyrac, a particularly well dressed man with a bright personality who didn't drink quite as much, but was equally a pleasure to be around. He tended to branch off into discussions of politics, which led to the discovery of the group both he and Grantaire were a part of, cleverly named the ABC. Courfeyrac invited him to their next meeting, to which Shayne agreed, and despite the dull buzz in his head from the absinthe he'd had thus far, he couldn't help distinctly remembering the pleased smile on Grantaire's face later on.

When Monday rolled around, Shayne was mildly surprised, but happily so, to find Grantaire at his doorstep. At this point he'd moved out and away from his brother, Prince Fiyero, who was on the verge of becoming king, and had bought a flat only a few blocks from the Corinthe. He opened his door a little further and ushered Grantaire inside, turning to him.

Grantaire ran a hand through his already well disheveled hair. "We don't start for another fifteen minutes… hell, I just wanted to see you."

Without warning, a particular memory flashed through his mind. It was of his sophomore year at Shiz University, at an upper classmen party with Avaric Tenmeadows, his brother's least favorite person on the planet. Everyone was drunk beyond comprehension, and somehow he and Avaric had ended up making out in the older boy's bedroom. Thankfully Avaric's girlfriend, Milla, had interrupted them, but at the time he had become a pouty mess. It had been the only time he'd ever kissed a boy, and honestly, he had tried to block the memory. Avaric had decidedly never talked to him again.

It was in that moment that he realized just how attached to Grantaire he'd gotten. Not as a passing amusement, no, and never as just a friend with benefits. What he felt was something real, something with a definite hold on his life, but he didn't name it. To name it would be to taint it, to make it trivial and fleeting and something that could be taken away.

It could easily be taken away. If Grantaire didn't feel the same way, he could ruin everything they'd become. They were, undeniably, a thing. A package deal. When Shayne was away from home, so was Grantaire. If one was drunk, so was the other. The two were attached at the hip, despite only being in each other's company for a fleeting two weeks, and to break that consistency would break his heart.

"Everything alright?" Grantaire's voice roused him from his thoughts, and he nodded, paused, and nodded again as if to reassure his own self.

"Just thinking," he replied with a crooked half smile, exactly the brand girls swore melted their hearts, and from the pause and faint pink color Grantaire had turned, he had to assume that they meant it.

Face still innocently flushed, he stepped forward and clapped Shayne on the shoulder. "Shall we?"

His crooked smile gave way for a grin. "I believe we shall."

~ ;) ~

Grantaire and Courfeyrac hadn't lied about the general welcome-ness and cheerfulness of the ABC. They all shared similar ideals about raising up the abaissé; the depraved, those who lived on the streets with no way to earn a living.

Admittedly, throughout the meeting, he was the slightest bit distracted by a comment a man named Combeferre had made- that at their last meeting on Friday, Grantaire wouldn't shut up about him- and by the looks of it, he who couldn't shut up was rather speechless as well.

A man named Enjolras spoke that evening, with the occasional interjections from the rest of the ABC, which he gracefully took in stride and branched off on. Shayne had to admit, for a bunch of college boys, the held together a strong group with truly revolutionary ideals, and from the way he watched Grantaire take it all in, he could tell that he was proud of them.

Later on he found himself talking to Enjolras himself, with Grantaire standing by, a grin plastered to his face. He was a bright man, clearly charismatic and fully capable of keeping the group in line. He hadn't noticed Courfeyrac behind him until he had apparently taken a look at Grantaire and decided to announce, "Why, Grantaire, you're absolutely twitter pated!"

Shayne turned his gaze to Grantaire, who was mildly flushed and chuckling to blow off the comment, but their eyes met and he caught the gleam Courfeyrac must have noticed in them, and suddenly he was filled with enough confidence to take hold of his arm and pull him aside, running a hand through his hair to calm himself. This sudden burst of adrenaline, this newfound confidence, had him jumping at the chance to make a move, but he wouldn't move too fast. He couldn't.

"We could go to my place."

Grantaire chuckled uneasily, and for a moment Shayne feared he'd read him completely wrong. "I've heard worse ideas." A teasing smirk played at his lips, and Shayne let out a breath he'd only just realized he'd been holding. He slid his arm around Grantaire's shoulders, giving him a little squeeze, and led him off into the night.

Here goes. "Twitter pated, huh?"

The comment earned another chuckle from Grantaire, who playfully nudged his shoulder with his head, which got Shayne's heart fluttering against his will. "If you're lucky."

"God damn," he murmured, nudging Grantaire's head back with his own. "Here's hoping."

"Mmm…" He fell silent, and for the remainder of the walk they communicated in nudges and smiles. It wasn't until they got to Shayne's door and he was forced to let go of him to unlock it that Grantaire responded. "You mean that?"

A pause. Shayne cast a final glance at Grantaire before pushing the door open and nodding. "Yeah, I do."

Neither spoke. Shayne hesitated, but took the initiative to pull Grantaire inside, shutting the door behind him. They managed to hold eye contact through the sudden silence, and Shayne could've sworn he was going mad until Grantaire finally broke it.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he managed quietly. "You're killing me, here."

Shayne's eyes softened and he took a step toward him, lifting a hand to trace his jaw. "I'm just… scared. I don't want to ruin us." He paused, eyebrows furrowing. "I can't lose you."

"Like hell you'd lose me," Grantaire muttered, moving a hand to cover Shayne's on his jaw. His breath caught at the contact, his heart began to thud quickly in his chest. In one step he backed Grantaire against the wall, bumping his forehead against his carefully.

He paused, looking Grantaire in the eyes, searching his for any sign of reluctance, of discomfort, despite what he'd said. "You…"

Without warning Grantaire flipped them around, pinning him to the wall and planting his lips firmly on Shayne's. He froze up in surprise, in fear, in a sheer, indescribably happy sort of feeling, but before Grantaire could pull away and ask what was wrong he returned the kiss fervently, fisting a hand in his hair. He felt Grantaire's arms wrap around his torso, pulling him flush against him. He was helpless to resist this. He didn't want to resist this.

Grantaire stepped back, but he followed, reluctant to break contact anytime soon. He could feel him grinning against his lips, which his promptly broke away from, much to Shayne's dismay, who instead planted heated, open mouthed kisses up his jaw.

"Mmm…" He went slack for a moment, tightening his grip on Shayne. "Have you… Shayne… mm… have you ever…" His hands slid to his hips, gripping them and pulling them harder against his.

Shayne felt his face heat up, and he ducked his head into his neck, leaving less than innocent kisses there. "Not technically." He'd never gotten that far with Avaric, and the uncountable number of girls he'd slept with didn't count in the same way.

Grantaire slinked out of his grip, earning a pathetic whimper from Shayne, who pouted profusely at this. "I'll teach you, shall I?" he said innocently, despite the husky tone not gone from his voice. He sauntered off, casually opening Shayne's bedroom door with a wicked smirk.

With a low, promising growl, Shayne darted after him.

~ ;) ~

"So, you've done this before?"

He knew it was some ungodly hour in the morning by now, but Shayne was finding sleep the slightest bit unreachable, now that he knew how Grantaire felt, now that he was laying beside him, arms and legs tangled with his amid the bed sheets. His eyes were closed, but a smile played at his lips and he continued to respond, so Shayne continued to talk with him.

"No," he answered, shifting a little to bury his face in the crook of Shayne's neck. "But you tend to hear things from shameless men such as Courfeyrac."

He chuckled at this, but only briefly, because he could feel Grantaire's lips on his skin, trailing kisses up his neck, and he found coherent speech a tad difficult- undoubtedly the intent behind the action. He left kisses all the way to the corner of his lips, which had Shayne pouting until he gave up and kissed him, coaxing the pout into a smile.

He broke his lips away, leaning his forehead on Grantaire's. "Where does this leave us?" he ventured quietly, tilting his head to nuzzle his jaw.

Grantaire paused, rolling them over and hovering over him. "I'd like to think there is an us." Again Shayne's heart fluttered.

"Almost certainly."

He laughed, pressing his lips firmly against Shayne's and murmuring jokingly, "Almost, huh?"

With a grin, Shayne flipped them over, kissing him heavily, and the laughter died out. He marveled in the effect Grantaire had on him, and vice versa, how one little kiss could instantly shut him up, one little touch could leave him whimpering pathetically and calling him a tease. A blissful quiet filled the room, and Shayne was content to press kisses everywhere he could reach until Grantaire caught his lips, and over again, filling the silence with purpose.

It had been so long since Shayne had felt so at ease. It was as if the world were finally balanced. His world certainly was, now that he had this man, this wonderful, comical, perfect man to set him right- perfect for him. He'd always been regarded as a player, a player who hadn't the slightest chance of settling down, or being happy settled down. And yet all of a sudden, here he was, feeling ridiculous, mushy things without the slightest ounce of regret, or any intentions of going back from that.

"Will Courfeyrac flip?"

Grantaire chuckled, shifting onto his side and pulling Shayne with him. "Yes, I'm afraid our dear matchmaker, Courfeyrac, will flip."

A pause. "You really want there to be an us?"

He became suddenly serious, rolling Shayne back under him, hovering there with a newfound intense firmness of belief. "Clearly I've not done my job convincing you that I am very, very deeply in love with you, and want more than anything for there to be an us."

Shayne practically flung himself up at him, sending them both toppling over into the sheets and kissing him for all he was worth.

"I love you, too, but I'm all for further convincing."

Grantaire had to laugh.