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Enjolras hurried into the class, dragging his daughter by the hand quickly. He set his things on the desk and she stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do with fifteen eyes staring at her and her father. He turned towards them, however, with the familiarity only a professor could have.
“I apologize for being late. This is my daughter, Olivie,” She waves shyly. “Schools let out early and no one could pick her up.”
He looks back at her and leans down, speaking quietly.
“Why don’t you go sit in the back, at the desk right over there where no one is sitting.”
She skips toward the back and settles into a chair, digging through her purple backpack and pulling out a notebook to draw in. At the front of the room, Enjolras mirrors her, digging through his messenger back to find his notes.
“I expect everyone read chapters two and three of the Discourses.” He waits for the mumbled affirmatives before turning to the board and writing. “How should a republic be started and structured?” He reads off. “You do not need to write your answer, but take a minute to think about it. You may speak quietly to the person beside you.”
In the back, he sees his daughter looking around at the students, whispering to each other, and she raises her hand.
“Daddy? I have a question.”
He walks to the back and kneels beside her. “I might have an answer.”
She giggles. “What’s a republic?”
He sees a few heads turn to watch him, no doubt to see how he does in explaining politics to a six year old.
“Well, a republic is a sort of government where the people in charge are in charge because that’s who everybody in the country has voted for.”
She looks at him for a second before breaking out into a grin.
“Kind of like when you and me and papa vote on dinner?”
He hears a few people around him laugh and he smiles. “Exactly like that, except with a president and the people who are there to help the president.”
“Oh, okay! Thanks!”
Heading back toward the front, he asks, “Now you’ve had a moment to structure your thoughts, what do you think?” He glances around at the few students raising a hand to talk first. “Nevaeh?”
“A republic can only be started by equal opportunity.”
He turns to write ‘equal opportunity’ on the board. “What else? Sydney?”
“It’s structured by the reciprocal obligation of both the people and the government to keep each other in check.”
With his back turned, scratching the sentence on the white board, he misses someone sneaking quietly into the classroom, shushing the students with a finger to his lips and motioning for them to drop their hands. He slips into the chair next to Olivie and raises his hand.
Enjolras turns back around. “Chapter two, very good. Anyone else?” He spots the newcomer in the back and sighs. “Anyone?” He looks expectantly at them and rolls his eyes. “Grantaire, then.”
He grins wolfishly, and suddenly Enjolras wishes he would have just ignored him.
“Scrap it. All of it.” He states simply.
“I see you haven’t read the assignment.” Enjolras smirks.
Grantaire leans over to look at one of his student’s papers, and his grin widens.
“The discourses, of course. I stand by my opinion.”
“Expatiate, please.”
“Rousseau refers to humans as savages, and that the primitive state held the best position in human nature. He writes simply that,” Air quote. “’The more one reflects on it, the more one finds that this state was the least subject to upheavals and the best for man.’”
“Yes, but he speaks of the nature of man, not the nature of government. ‘The subsequent progress has been in appearance so many steps toward the perfection of the individual, and in fact toward the decay of the species.’”
“Same thing, professor. The nature of man is that ‘The first man who, having fenced a piece of land, said ‘This is mine,’ and found people naïve enough to believe him, that man was the true founder of civil society.’ Isn't that what government is? A form of forcing the people, the society, to submit to the government’s will in order to civilize our barbaric tendencies.”
“You may quote Rousseau out of context all you like, but the fact of the matter is, Grantaire, you are quoting the wrong discourse.”
The class laughs, and Enjolras smirks in his husband’s direction.
“I’m sorry, I only assumed because you keep a copy of Rousseau’s discourses by your side while you sleep. It’s terribly uncomfortable.”
Enjolras snorts and turns back to the board, writing another question on the board.
“Now that you’ve all met my husband, I think we can probably continue.”
Grantaire shuffles out of his chair, picking up Olivie’s drawings and letting her climb on his back. He stops in front of the class, beside their professor.
“Goodbye, students. Stay in school, and remember, you all have respective good qualities that are vastly superior to princes in all that is good and glorious. Don’t come home without pizza, Enj.”
“Why did I marry you?” He deadpans.
“I’m the only one in the universe that puts up with your idealistic, Rousseau worshipping attitude.” He kisses him on the cheek and strides out of the door.
“Well, he’s not wrong.” Everyone laughs.