Chapter Text
Jehan walked into the top room of the Musain late. Enjolras had sent a facebook message telling everyone to come at six, and it was now pushing seven. Jehan had never been the best time keeper, and even when he was late he refused to rush himself, so he looked completely unapologetic as he walked in. His boots made loud noises as he sat in his place in between Bossuet and Bahorel, before noting he’d walked into something quite serious. Combeferre was stood against the fireplace, arms folded, looking intently at Courfeyrac, who was stood opposite him. Bunch of papers in hand. Red cheeks. Oh no, Jehan thought, they’re debating again.
It was hard to imagine, when you see them on a pitch such as this one, that they were best friends. Jehan had hardly believed it himself when he had first met them, sure that Courfeyrac’s angry gestures and use of expletives could never get along with Combeferre’s cool gaze and soft voice, but they do. Maybe Combeferre was air, and Courfeyrac fire, Jehan considered as he watched them, and they danced a dance together; a warring of two elements in a way- but fire couldn’t exist without air in the first place. In truth, they enjoyed arguing against each other. It opened up ideas, and let out frustrations, they knew each so well that they knew exactly which areas to stay clear of and what were argument fodder.
Grantaire let out an audible sigh, and poured himself another glass of wine, emptying it. He opened another bottle they had at the table, and poured one for Joly also. “It’s going to be a long night, boys.” He muttered, and the rest smiled. Feuilly was watching them, head going back and forth like watching a tennis match. Enjolras had his eyes trained on his friends, ready to rescue whichever one seemed to be floundering first. At Grantaire’s quip he turned his head and shushed him; Grantaire did not speak another word all night.
After he and Combeferre were done, Courfeyrac sat in his seat beside Feuilly, opposite Jehan. His cheeks were still pink, hair mussed up. Should one look so ravished after a perfectly innocent debating spree? Jehan didn’t think it should be legal. But he didn’t understand why he was thinking these thoughts; Courfeyrac was not his type. Courfeyrac smiled too much, he was soft and round and looked like he would give amazing cuddles and those lips did look more inviting upturned than, say, Grantaire’s sad downturn—maybe it would even do Jehan some good to go for someone different—and why was he even thinking of this? One small chat with Courfeyrac and suddenly he’s crushing like a twelve year old.
Courfeyrac caught his eye, and raised an eyebrow. Jehan blinked, startled as he noticed he had been noticed, before pulling himself back and winking in response to Courfeyrac. Courf looked pleased. Jehan was pleased that Courfeyrac seemed pleased.
“Would you two stop flirting for just one moment and pay attention?” Enjolras looked to them both, eyebrows furrowed. He had some bar graphs in front of him and was in the middle of explaining them.
“I’ll try not to get distracted.” Courfeyrac joked lightly, wiggling his brows in a jokey manner at Jehan who had to bite the inside of his cheeks not to burst out giggling.