Thanks, Aurelia! I'm glad that I could improve your mood. :-)
There'll be more of them, Elwen, I promise! I still remember about some of our older ideas, I just have to find a way how to write them.
Thank you, MmeBahorel! I am tempted to write a longer (well, longer than a drabble) fic about Feuilly and the Polish Great Emigration; I'm currently doing some research in the matter.
Another one. AU, post-barricade, Enjolras/Grantaire, written for Elwen. Translation by me, with some help from Elwen.
Enjolras seems to restrain even while sleeping; he becomes himself only on the border of reality. He needs five minutes to get fully awake. During those five minutes Grantaire sees him the way he really is: instead of a stern, sad face he watches a boyish flush and a crumpled nightshirt. Sometimes, when he dares to touch his hair, he gets a sleepy smile in return.
Grantaire pretends the moment can last forever, but his illusion quickly disappears, leaving another twenty-three hours, fifty-five minutes of waiting.
Yet for the five minutes Enjolras belongs to him and that's what really counts.
Tell me, I've still a lot to learn,
Understand, these fires never stop,
Believe me, when this joke is tired of laughing,
I will hear the promise of my Orpheus sing...