Chapter Text
“You have got to be kidding me, Marius.”
Even with several hundreds of miles of land and sea (not to mention the occasional historic monument) between them, the irritation in Cosette’s voice paints a clear enough picture that Marius can see the furrow between her brow and the way she is inevitably chewing through her lower lip right about now. All a part of knowing someone so well after an extended period of time, but that’s beside the point.
If this were any other time Marius might have wished that she were physically here before him, instead of all the way in London; but now the distance proves rather beneficial, as she can’t actually see the way his shoulders curl forward to make himself appear smaller, nor is she aware of the way he pushes his fingers through his hair with his free hand.
—Beneficial, by the way, in that Cosette can do nothing more than sigh aloud an exasperated “Marius!”, causing the freckled male just to whimper a little.
Being attuned to one another is a mutual thing, and just because she can’t see his nervous tics in action, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have her answer. Marius’ silence is enough to tell all.
“Okay, so I haven’t found a place just yet,” says Marius once he finally manages to find his voice. “I am trying though. It just isn’t easy to find a place that’s affordable on such short notice, you know?”
Cosette is, thankfully, far too kind to point out the fact that he had plenty of time to go apartment searching when she let him know several months in advance of her newest job offer. The ‘short notice’ excuse he offers doesn’t really fly; it’s his own fault for procrastinating on finding a place. Instead, she simply sighs, “Just a few weeks ago you said that Mabeuf was allowing you to stay with him until you found something more permanent.”
“Yeah, was.”
“He kicked you out?”
The both of them know how unlikely that particular scenario is, considering how fond the old man is of Marius. Hours upon hours spent either in the back room of the library, or in Marius’ office, steaming mugs of Earl Grey in hand, poring over translations or simply laughing over the antics their students try to pull can attest to that. It’s a running joke among the other teachers that Mabeuf would gladly adopt the freckled young man, if only Marius would hand over the papers for him to sign.
“No,” Marius sighs. “I left on my own accord.” He’s fond of Mabeuf, he really is, but seeing the way his face positively lit up in his presence, despite all of the extra trouble he had to go through was far too much for Marius to handle. “I just didn’t want to be a burden any longer than I needed to be.”
By this, he means that Mabeuf showed just enough kindness to him to make him feel guilty. Sleeping on the old man’s couch for a few weeks would have been enough; but when talk of getting rid of a few bookshelves to clear out his office and convert it into an extra bedroom started to come about during dinnertime, Marius, with a sinking heart, knew that it was time for him to pack up and go.
When he adds this part in, he makes sure to do so in a rush, but this doesn’t quite stop Cosette from exhaling, “Because that’s obviously the solution.” Her voice goes a shade softer now, “Do you at least have a roof over your head now?”
“A temporary one, yeah.” Not technically a lie, so his voice doesn’t go high up like it would if he were stretching the truth entirely. He cradles the phone a little closer. “Like I said before, I’m on the hunt everywhere. I have a few appointments arranged with some people that I found on Craigslist.”
At last does Cosette laugh, and the tiny space he’s enclosed in brightens up because of it. “Well, your housing situation will look up soon enough. Just be careful, alright?”
“I will,” Marius promises, and before he can say anything else, someone calls Cosette’s name on the other line, and some indistinct chatter follows. He falls silent so that she can have her conversation in peace.
When she’s finished, Marius is absolutely unsurprised when she announces, “Well, that’s my cue to go. One of the girls’ mothers showed up early, and I don’t like to leave them alone in the studio for too long. I’ll talk to you soon?”
Trying not to let his disappointment show too much, Marius simply nods and says, “Of course. Have a wonderful lesson, and keep hydrated. That goes for you and the girls.” He allows himself a smile before adding, “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thank you. And I’ll be sure to do the same as well.”
He can hear the sound of her turning the doorknob now, which means that his time with her is truly limited now. She wishes him luck again, and then bids him off with a (platonic) ‘I love you’ and he returns the gesture (mostly platonic); he hears a small girl cry out, “Miss F!” joyously before the line goes dead.
Well, the conversation didn’t go quite as horrifically as Marius had anticipated.
He’d been dreading talking to Cosette about this for several days now, and tried to put off the topic of his living situation for as long as possible by asking question after question about her time in London, even ones that he already knew the answer to, until, having had enough, Cosette asked, “And how are things with you?” Perhaps he should have been a little more subtle. She wasn’t happy when he told her the news, and despite all of the sighing, Marius knew that unhappiness was more rooted in concern than it was irritation. Exes they might be, but they meant it when they agreed to be friends, and at least make an effort to keep up the relationship by talking as often as they can.
In any case, Marius is simply grateful that Cosette didn’t push the issue of his living quarters as she could have.
After setting his phone down, Marius leans over and grabs a fleece blanket from his futon (currently folded up, and he doesn’t have the energy to set it up) so that he has something soft to lay on while he grades these tests. It’s still light outside, so he doesn’t have to worry about grabbing a lantern (some relic from a camping trip from ages past) from the back corner just yet.
As sweet and understanding as Cosette can be about many things, Marius somehow doubts she wouldn’t yell at him if she knew the truth. If she called him an idiot, well, that wouldn’t be untrue, but it’d also be a severe understatement.
Of course, it’s at this exact moment that Marius hears a sudden crash, jerking him away from his thoughts, and dragging a jagged red line down the essay portion of Brielle Rouleau’s test. When he goes out to check the source of the noise, he sees a rather tall, gangly man rubbing his shoulders, a bright purple bike laying at his feet.
Marius sticks his head out a little further and calls out, “Are you alright?”
Much to his surprise, the man laughs, despite the obvious pain he’s experiencing. “All is well, mon ami! Sorry about that, I must have given you quite the scare.” He bends down to prop his bike upright. “There was a woman in my path who was walking a bunch of dogs, and it looked like she was having a hard enough time keeping control of them, so I swerved over to avoid them.” He lightly knocks his fist against the shell of the truck, making the inside of Marius’ shelter echo slightly. “Luckily your truck was there to break my fall.”
Their exchange from that point was brief, albeit friendly. After cracking a few more jokes about the whole ordeal, including one slightly worrisome “Thank goodness I don’t work out so often, otherwise I might have put a dent on your truck!” remark, the two men parted, wishing one another a good evening, though no names were exchanged.
After this, Marius rolls the door down completely and allows himself this moment in total darkness, lightly hitting his head against the cold, aluminum wall. No, it’s really a good thing Cosette doesn’t know the truth. Though, to be quite honest, he knows that he brought all of this upon himself.
Even so, he’d very much like to kick his own arse for every single stupid decision that led up to him living in the back of a moving pod.
“I need to find a place,” Marius utters to himself.
And fast, before something else happens. Like his truck getting towed.
An unlikely scenario for most but since he’s Marius Pontmercy, anything is possible.
One week, one awkward phone call (and two missed ones subsequently), and more cups of coffee than is probably healthy for any human being to consume in any period of time later, and Marius, true to his word, finds himself once again connected to his MacBook, on the seemingly never-ending quest to find some decent place to live that won’t make him cry in his sleep because of the lease, and isn’t in a neighborhood that won’t have him fearing for his life. The aforementioned appointments did not go quite as well as Marius would have hoped, and he isn’t really counting on any follow-ups from either one of the places, but he’s trying his best to not let any of that dampen his spirits too much.
Which is something of a fair challenge, considering he’s been using a public restroom as a shower for the past week, and one of his students placed some eye brightening cream on his desk before they left for break. (He tried not be too angry, even when they told him “You look like a zombie”, as they passed the offending product in his direction, because they at least had the decency to do so auf Deutsch. As long as they’re learning…) He thinks he’s doing just fine handling everything though.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t occasionally caught off guard.
Marius nearly jumps in his chair when a blue and white paisley mug is suddenly placed at his side, filled to the brim with piping hot tea. He doesn’t have to look up to see who did such a kind gesture; he would recognize those bracelets anywhere.
He looks up anyway, peering into the face of a curly-haired brunette male around his age, smiling so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly. “Monsieur Courfeyrac!” Startled as he initially was, the other man’s smile is truly contagious, and Marius finds himself smiling as well as Courfeyrac takes a seat beside his own.
“Really Marius? ‘Monsieur’? We’re colleagues, and this isn’t the nineteenth century.” Courfeyrac lets out a light, easy sort of laugh. “You can call me ‘Courf’ if you’d like.”
Marius flushes just a little at this, mumbling a soft, “Sorry, Courf”, before pushing his laptop aside slightly, and angles his chair in the other’s direction so that he can give him his complete and undivided attention. “And how are you today?”
Courfeyrac is sidled up a little closer to Marius now, eyes flickering on the now abandoned computer screen for a moment, before answering with a noncommittal shrug of the shoulder. “Decent enough, I suppose. Just caught up in the midweek slump, but I’m trying to keep my energy up. The weekend is so close, I can practically grasp it.” He has some sort of hot beverage of his own (coffee, judging by the smell but topped off with plenty of whipped cream), but somehow manages to reach his hand out and make a grabbing motion without spilling any of his drink over.
“Well, it looks as though you have plenty of energy.” Marius shakes his head, using this opportunity to take a sip of his tea. Earl Grey with cream, a little sweeter than he might normally take it; though he is pleased to taste notes of honey rather than any of the packaged sweeteners that are normally offered. “Care to extend some my way?”
“Nah. I have a Beginning Drama class full of eleven and twelve-year-olds next, not to mention two full days of auditions for Alice in Wonderland.” Courfeyrac is still all smiles though, and his elbow is resting comfortably on the back of Marius’ chair. “Trust me, I need the energy.”
Marius decides to settle his cup between hands, mostly so that they have somewhere to go other than the keyboard. “Fair enough, though, let me tell you, trying to command a class full of those same eleven and twelve-year-olds is no walk in the park if you’re trying to teach them how to conjugate verbs properly. There’s a good number of them who would prefer it if I taught my lessons by having them listen to Rammstein for an hour straight…”
Conversation between the two of them flows easily. The next few minutes is a back and forth exchange of banter mostly centered around whose job is more difficult, with the occasional light jab at one another. Other than Mabeuf, Courfeyrac is probably the one teacher whom Marius feels most comfortable around. Marius actually finds himself relaxing into his chair a little. Perhaps if they knew each other a little better, he could call Courfeyrac his ‘friend’ rather than his ‘colleague’.
It’s then that Courfeyrac switches the topic of the conversation. “Finding housing around this time of year is Hell.” To which Marius makes a vague sound of agreement; so he did see what he was looking up earlier. “I mean, sure, there’s a lot to be found on the Internet but who’s to say that when you find something that does work out, you won’t be living a Lifetime Movie?”
“What?”
“Ever seen The Craigslist Killer?”
Determining whether a person is joking or being sarcastic has never been something that Marius has been particularly good at, and it doesn’t really help that Courfeyrac is wearing a most earnest expression as he says all of this. Then Courfeyrac is speaking again, and Marius ends up missing out on the first part of what he says because he’s too busy trying to figure out if there are any telltale signs that you might end up waking up to a knife pressed against your head because the person you’re potentially living with is exactly the thing Courfeyrac described.
The only part of Courfeyrac’s little speech, punctuated with a few gesticulations is, “—so, you could always live with me.”
“What?” It’s really a good thing that Marius didn’t swallow down on any of his tea these past few moments, because he’d surely have choked on it.
Courfeyrac blinks slowly, “You, come live with me.” He pauses for a moment, “And the rest of my housemates, of course. There’s an extra bedroom that’s waiting to be used, if you don’t mind painted walls as décor.”
Marius can’t help but laugh nervously. “Oh, I’m not sure if you want me as a housemate…”
“I’m sure you’re not that bad to live with, Marius,” Courf replies with an arched eyebrow. “Trust me, whatever weird quirks you think are unbearable, I’m fairly certain we can handle it. I mean, sure, some of the paintings R did are a little weird. Especially the giant squid, but it looks really cool at night…”
Since Marius has no idea who R is, or anything about this alleged giant squid, the reference is completely lost on him.
That same sinking, vaguely guilty feeling from before starts to kick in; luckily, Marius is spared from having to provide an answer right away by the chiming of bells, signaling the end of everyone’s morning break.
Courfeyrac rises from his chair and places his hand on Marius’ shoulder, who is staring into his half-finished tea cup. “I’m not saying that you have to move in with me, by the way. I know the offer pretty much came out of nowhere, but you seem like a good guy who’s having a rough time. I’m able to help, because that’s what friends do.”
“We’re friends?” His voice is small, hopeful, and only a little pathetic.
Courf nods, giving Marius a little smile. “Of course we are, Pontmercy.” And he gives his shoulder a squeeze. “So just think about it, alright?”
And, over the next several days, Marius does think about it.
He thinks about Courfeyrac’s offer when he’s seated in the little conference room in the library with Mabeuf, listening to the old man ramble excitedly over the new additions to his herb garden out in the backyard. Quiet and subdued as Mabeuf may present himself, the enthusiasm he holds for things he loves, such as dusty old tomes and botanical life of any sort, is endearing. Instead of wild gesticulations, he wheezes a little in his speech, but he’s kind and generous where it matters most.
He thinks about it when he’s curled up under several layers of blankets in the truck every single night. He’ll have to return it soon; he rented the thing for a week, and he doesn’t want to think about how much extensions cost per day.
He also thinks about it every time he has a cup of tea, or every time he passes by a poster encouraging students to audition for Alice in Wonderland. They supposedly finished up the day before, and Marius hopes that every single student interested did show up.
He definitely thinks about it Friday morning, when he’s trying to encourage his students to come up and do a presentation of conversational German in front of the class. Marius has to partner up with at least one student who was left the odd man out (a scenario he knows all too well and tries to avoid as often as possible), and they pick the setting of a grocery store. When Marius asks his student what sort of bags he would like his items to be placed in, instead of papier or plastiktute, the student utters, “I’ll take the ones under your eyes”.
Maybe Marius’ patience has run out, or maybe it’s the fact that this little clown didn’t utter his remark auf Deutsch, but he sends the student off with a demerit. Then he retrieves the eye brightening cream from several days ago, and applies it during break.
“We’ve all got to stay pretty somehow,” Courfeyrac remarks as he emerges from a stall behind him.
And, finally, he receives a text message from Cosette: I hope you know that I am very unhappy with you for missing not one, but three of my phone calls this week. You will be forgiven if you’ve been busy moving in somewhere. If not, then it’s probably best I don’t tell you the consequences via text.
“Courf?”
“You can come on in, Marius. It’s not like any of the posters are going to come to life and jump out to attack you.”
It’s later on that Friday afternoon, about an hour after all of the clubs let off, and only a few teachers remain on campus.
A few teachers, that apparently includes Courfeyrac.
Marius smiles sheepishly and takes a step forward, shifting slightly so that his entire body is in the room where Courfeyrac does most of his work rather than just his head and the top of his shoulders. True to description, the classroom is covered in posters; plays, musicals, even the occasional opera. He recognizes some titles, but has trouble placing even more; the posters litter the top half of the walls, giving an interesting, collagelike effect that is very pleasing to the eye. Courfeyrac is sitting on top of his desk, legs crossed Indian style, a flyer of some kind clutched in his hands; his attention is no longer on the flyer, but on Marius, who has a leather messenger bag hitched over his shoulder, and an initialed briefcase in hand.
Courfeyrac sets his flyer down and hops off the desk. “Is there anything that I can help you with? I assume that there’s a reason you came here.”
“Of course there is.” Now would be a good time to elaborate but it takes Marius a moment to find his words. His feet are already itching towards the door, some flimsy excuse ready to tumble off of his tongue but he manages to swallow down on that urge for the moment. “I was…I was wondering…that offer you made, is it still on the table?”
Courfeyrac’s face is blank, which makes Marius panic for just a split second but before he can edge away, turning towards his original, last minute plan, the other man beams. “I would never take back an offer I made to a friend, Marius.”
There it is again. That word. Friend.
Marius is practically bursting with excitement as he watches Courfeyrac pack his things now, zipping back and forth to stuff his own bags with folders full of things he will presumably need for the weekend. There is some sort of wordless agreement between the two men that they will walk outside together and discuss what needs to be done.
Courfeyrac talks in an endless stream of enthusiastic babble as they cross the campus together, the lights of most classrooms still turned on but empty of life otherwise. There isn’t much room for Marius to talk other than the occasional comment here and there but he is more than content to listen about why it’s so perfect that he chose to take up on the offer. “Now Enjolras can’t convert it into the office for all of his blogging, which means he still has to come out in the living room with the rest of us sometimes. Ha!”
He’s about to ask Courf who exactly Enjolras is but stops. He supposes that he’ll meet him soon enough; and Combeferre too, whom Courfeyrac has managed to mention several times despite the walk from the Drama classroom to the school entrance being a very short one.
Somehow, in that time, Courfeyrac manages to tell Marius he already brought the idea up to his other housemates. “They’re fine with the idea,” Courf says with a shrug. “More or less.”
They’ve also agreed that it would be best if Marius moves in as soon as possible, and the redheaded male is about to ask for the address to the place when Courfeyrac interjects again, “Today might even work! I mean, you can just drive your truck over. A couple of friends owe me some favors, so we can move you in this weekend. It’ll be great.”
It’s then that Marius stops. No one at work knows about his truck. He made sure of that. “…and how would you happen to know about that?”
The way Courfeyrac’s dark eyes twinkle is frightening. Oh God. Did…did he follow him without him realizing?
“A wise man once told me, my friend, that there are some questions in life that are better not knowing the answer to.” Marius swallows down nervously, and he’s about to say something but the other man puts a finger to his lips. “Shhh…” He leans in a little closer and whispers, “You’re really not that good at keeping things a secret. I’ve seen you climb out the back of your truck before you take your walk to school.”
Marius bursts out laughing, genuinely and without any inhibitions. “Jerk.”
“The look on your face was too good to pass up,” replies Courfeyrac, looking extremely proud of himself.
That explanation makes much more sense, however. Giving it a little further thought, Marius realizes that he didn’t do a very good job of keeping his situation a secret. His truck is only a few blocks down from the school, parked across the street from a park that many people like to visit in their off time.
Courfeyrac makes several bad jokes about how Marius can cross off being a spy from his list of life dreams, as it could only lead to a catastrophic end for all those involved.
Marius doesn’t mind though. He finally has a place to live, and he can finally return Cosette’s phone calls without feeling too guilt because he finally has some good news to share.
Besides, living with Courfeyrac and his housemates is bound to be nothing else if not extremely interesting.