Chapter Text
In the depths of Paris, there stands an unused red windmill, known throughout the city as the entrance to the Moulin Rouge, a night club in the underground of Montmartre. The Moulin was owned and run by the Thenardiers, and their star of each night was a young boy named Grantaire. He had lived as a scavenger on the streets until Eponine - the eldest of five - found him and brought him into their home for a night out of the wet and cold. After that, he was like a son and brother to the mismatched family. Naturally the Thenardiers didn't care for their oldest birth son and, in Grantaire's place, the boy Gavroche took to the streets. The two younger boys were left to themselves around the Moulin, sometimes emerging onto the streets in search of their brother, while Azelma and Eponine worked in the club alongside Grantaire. Monsieur Thenardier was the ever enthusiastic host, and took great pride in his sparrow, his own daughters falling second and third in his affections. Madame Thenardier, fondly known to Grantaire as Ma T, stayed behind the curtains at all times, and though she only cared for her girls some of that love was transferred to Grantaire out of pity. Thus we are taken to the year 1899, where Grantaire aged twenty-nine is set to meet with the Duc de Gueulemer in order to secure an investment to a play, and transform the Moulin Rouge into a theatre. So Eponine and her father helped Grantaire prepare for the night, while just across the street a young writer has set up his typewriter only to be disrupted by an unconscious bald man falling through his roof.
"What on earth?" The blond muttered to himself, leaping from his seat as a man not much younger than himself burst through the door to his apartment, dressed as a nun. "I'm so sorry! L'Aigle just has the worst luck, he managed to knock himself out while rehearsing our play. I'm Courfeyrac, by the way." "En-" Our protagonist's introduction was interrupted by three others poking their heads through the hole in the young man's ceiling. "Great, now how are we supposed to rehearse with our lead actor unconscious?!" "Calm down Marius, we can find someone else." "And where do you suppose we find someone to play our very Bohemian lead?" Courfeyrac cleared his throat and gestured slowly to the blond looking very confusedly from one man to the next. Before he knew what was happening, Enjolras was standing in for the still unconscious L'Aigle de Meaux with Marius, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Feuilly arguing over the words to go with the latter's music. Enjolras had had more than enough, they were all making this far too complicated and talking over one another wasn't helping in the slightest, so he took a deep breath before belting out. "The hills are alive, with the sound of music!" All four stopped to stare at hin, and movement from the other end of the room had Enjolras turning in surprise as L'Aigle cried out, "The hills are alive with the sound of music! I love it!" before tripping over his own feet and falling unconscious again. Feuilly went over his music and oh how happy he was to inform Enjolras that it fits! "With songs they have sung, for a thousand years!" Was Enjolras' response, grinning just as widely as three of his new friends. The fourth however, was not best pleased, especially when Courfeyrac suggested he and Enjolras write the play together. Marius, without even hearing his friends' reasons, left the building as dramatically as possible, slamming the door so hard it shook in its frame. Enjolras didn't know what to do, as the other four weren't at all phased.
Courfeyrac turned to him with a large grin. "Congratulations! You've got your first job at the Moulin Rouge!" What? Enjolras panicked, his father's words running through his head. 'You'll end up in some floozy's skirt in the Moulin Rouge, wasting away what little money you have left!' "I'm sorry I can't write the play for the Moulin Rouge!" He garbled out, rushing to the stairs, but was followed by the four. "What do you mean Enjolras?" "Don't you want to be a writer?" "You have so much talent!" Enjolras turned to them, exasperated. "I don't even know if I am a true Bohemian!" That caused gasps from the others. "Do you believe in freedom?" He turned to Combeferre and nodded. "Yes." "Do you believe in beauty?!" L'Aigle cried at him and again Enjolras had to nod. "Why, yes." "What about truth?" It was Feuilly's turn for a nod. "Yes, of course!" "And love?" Courfeyrac's small voice had him stopping, mouth open. "Love?" They all nodded back at him. "Above all things I believe in love. Love is a many splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!" "Then you are a true Bohemian Enjolras! Come, drink with us my friend!" And so Enjolras drank his first taste of absinthe, borrowing Courfeyrac's best suit and heading off to the Moulin Rouge.
Not even a half hour later Enjolras was sat in the perfect location for the grand entrance of The Sparkling Diamond, who he assumed was the star of the club, but none of the others had mentioned a name. Little did he know, sat directly behind him along with Monsieur Thenardier was the Duc de Gueulemer, also anxiously awaiting the arrival.
"Enjolras, it's all sorted! I've arranged a meeting with you and Grantaire after his performance! Alone!" Grantaire? His? Enjolras' mind blew. The Sparkling Diamond was a he? Wait a second! "Alone?!" "Yes! Totally alone!"
"My dear Duke, I have arranged a meeting with you and Monsieur Grantaire after his performance tonight, alone." "Alone?" The Duke grinned slowly as Thenardier confirmed. "Totally alone."
At that moment, the dancers stopped their raunchy moves and stood in a group opposite the two groups of men and a lone figure was lowered on a trapeze swing from the ceiling. Enjolras' eyes bugged as he fell back in his seat, overcome with the possibilities. "The French, are glad to die for love. But I, just need my jewels." The spotlight showed that the man Grantaire truly was The Sparkling Diamond, his clothing covered in the jewels. A large black dress shirt was open almost to the waist, a silver pattern criss-crossing all over. His legs were folded, one over the other and he swiftly changed them over, revealing to Enjolras that he wore silver ladies undergarments beneath it, and nothing else but high heeled shoes. A black top hat with diamonds around the brim was balanced on top of unruly black curls, green eyes shimmering in the reflections from his outfit. All of a sudden he was swinging across the room and dropped to the floor, singing again as men of all ages surrounded him from all sides. "A kiss on the hand may be, quite continental. But diamonds are a girls best friend." The song went on, Grantaire dancing across the room and throwing away the roses and money offered to him, but Enjolras couldn't care less. Watching the man dance as though under a spell, he even stood up at one point to follow the man across the floor. Courfeyrac, in his haste to keep Enjolras in his seat, knocked into a waiter and unknowingly spilled champagne on the Duke. In the kerfuffle, Thenardier looked over in horror before informing Grantaire. "Is the Duke here?" "Yes! That fool Courfeyrac is waving a handkerchief at him." As the two switched sides on the stage, Courfeyrac leant over to Enjolras and picked up his clean handkerchief. "May I borrow?" At that moment, Grantaire's eyes narrowed before widening at how gorgeous the Duke was. "Are you sure?" "Let me peek." Courfeyrac turned again, oblivious to the conversation on stage and threw the new handkerchief at the Duke with the exclamation "Clean yourself up you bourgeois pig!" having no idea who the other man was. "That's him alright." Grantaire nodded and quickly changed behind the girls' skirts into his pale coloured sheer shirt and feathered belt, a diamond love heart at his groin. "Then off I go." Thenardier hurried from the floor to the elevated bandstand as Grantaire was carried over to Enjolras. "I understand you're expecting me." He smirked at the blond god, who nodded quickly. "Yes.." Enjolras gasped, unable to tear his eyes away from the diamond ecrusted heart before him. Grantaire turned back to the crowd and called out. "I'm afraid it's gentleman's choice!" He held out a hand to Enjolras, who didn't hesitate in taking it, although with as much confidence as taking a lion's paw. "Now we dance." Grantaire pulled him onto the floor and before Enjolras knew what was happening he was following The Sparkling Diamond like a man possessed.
"Um, Courfeyrac mentioned we could do it in private. Assuming you like what I do of course!" "Did he?" Grantaire grinned, turning to wink at the boy who was well known amongst the other dancers. "Yes, a private-" Enjolras paused to dip Grantaire, spinning him around before holding him against his chest. "-poetry reading." A certain look came into Grantaire's eyes that had Enjolras weak at the knees. "Ohh. A poetry reading? Oh I do love a bit of poetry after supper!" Grantaire turned out of Enjolras' arms, dancing away before grinning back at him. "Take off your hat!" Enjolras did so, and almost keeled over as Grantaire kicked a perfect leg dead straight into the air, his heeled foot rising higher than his head. Before Enjolras could do or say anything else however, Grantaire was back in the air on his trapeze and the blondwas being hurried back to his seat. "Square cut or pear shaped, these rocks don't lose their shape. Diamonds, are a.. girls.. best.." Grantaire took a heaving gasp for breath, Enjolras standing again in concern as the young man fell from the swing into one of the other male dancer's arms.
Silence fell in the Moulin before a roar of applause could be heard from Thenardier and a chant of "Grantaire" could be heard throughout the building. After a moment, Thenardier stopped their shouts, lamenting that they had scared him away. Enjolras wasn't as convinced as the other club go-ers, and hurried away for his meeting with Grantaire.