Chapter Text
“I have an idea.”
Enjolras swiftly drags his laptop out of the way just as Courfeyrac's bag tumbles down in its place, spilling pens and candy wrappers all over the table. Courfeyrac sits down with an exaggerated huff and Enjolras raises an eyebrow at him.
“You have an idea?”
“A brilliant one.”
Enjolras sighs, closes his laptop, and gently pushes it into his bag before turning back to his friend. “Alright, what's your idea?”
“Just imagine,” Courfeyrac starts, hands out for dramatic flair. Enjolras rolls his eyes but stops halfway through when Courfeyrac adds, “Our very own dragon boat team.”
“Our very own what.”
“Dragon boat team.”
“Courf.”
“No, just think about it,” Courfeyrac insists, and pulls a notebook out of his bag. “I was telling R about it and he already said he could design the shirts-”
“Let me see,” Enjolras tells him sharply, and Courfeyrac swiftly hands him the notebook, already open to show a drawing of a dragon with a paddle. Waves surround it, and Enjolras has to admit it looks pretty good.
“It would be a great way to get our name out there – connect with the people more,” Courfeyrac says gently, but his tone hardly hides the excitement behind the words. “It's a popular sport here, there's the Rose Festival race every year, gets a lot of publicity, I think that-” he pauses when Enjolras looks up at him.
“It costs a lot of money, Courf.”
Courfeyrac gingerly takes the notebook back from him and flips to a new page before handing it back. “I already talked to Combeferre about it. He thinks it's a good idea,” he adds defensively, set jaw a complete contrast to his soft black curls, and Enjolras glances at him briefly before reading the page.
“Rose Festival alone is sixteen hundred,” he states. “How do you expect us to pay for that?”
“Enj,” Courfeyrac admonishes, “Don't act like your parents wouldn't leap at the opportunity to get you to be part of a sports team.” Enjolras raises his eyebrow again and Courf holds up his hands. “Look, if it's all paid for that means that we can let other people – kids, from the city – join it for free. It's community outreach!”
“All these extra races-”
“We can fundraise too, Enjolras – we can use our meetings as a platform for that, and I know Marius has enough money to wipe his ass with it now that his grandfather's stopped being a dick-”
“Transportation?”
“Apparently it's Jehan's dream to own a bus, they bought one just a few months ago-”
“Courf-”
“Look, all I'm saying is we could start a team and get some publicity for the movement and do community outreach and have fun as a team, all at the same time, that's all.”
Enjolras can almost feel Courfeyrac fidget as he stares down at the page for a long moment, deliberating. “Alright, I'll think about it,” he says at last, and Courfeyrac slumps for a second before bouncing forward in his seat, a grin stretching across his dark face. “I can't guarantee they'd be willing to pay for it, but I'll ask them.” Courfeyrac goes to grab the notebook but Enjolras holds onto it and says, “Courf, you've forgotten one thing.”
Courfeyrac stares at him, frowning. “What?”
Enjolras gives him a grin. “None of us know how to paddle a dragon boat.”
Which is how Enjolras finds himself on friday night, not studying for the test he has next week, but looking up videos of dragon boat paddle techniques. He's trying to replicate the movements in one of them, twisting his torso, when Combeferre walks in, takes one look at him, and walks straight into his own room.
“Ferre,” Enjolras calls out, still twisting in time to the people in the video. It's starting to actually hurt.
“Enjolras,” Combeferre calls back from his own room, and Enjolras turns to glare at it, annoyed.
“Ferre, Courf thinks we should make a dragon boat team.”
Combeferre opens his door at that. Enjolras pauses the video as Combeferre just stares at him for a bit, expression unreadable. “I think it's a good idea,” he states.
“None of us know how to do it,” Enjolras protests, more out of habit than anything.
“You don't seem to be doing too badly,” Combeferre tells him, gesturing to the video, and Enjolras glances at it before turning back to his friend.
“Last time I was on a boat I was nine.”
“Easily remedied,” Combeferre replies, “Did you know Bossuet got himself a boat?” At Enjolras' sudden look of horror, Combeferre holds up his hands. “He's not allowed to drive it, Enj, don't worry. You might ask if we can go out on the river sometime.”
Being out on the river is a disaster. Bossuet falls off the boat somehow and Joly screams something about contamination before Musichetta is able to pull the thing around. They get Bossuet back on the boat with few problems, but Enjolras spends most of the time hunkered down in his seat, trying not to puke.
He'll have to get over that.
“So I hear we're starting a dragon boat team,” Bahorel says, sliding into the seat opposite Enjolras. Enjolras had been studying before his next class, but he sighs and closes his textbook, pulling his pencil from behind his ear.
“Where did you hear that?” he asks, twisting his hair in a bun and stabbing his pencil through it to keep it in place. It falls apart and he feels gentle fingers comb it back up and pushing a scrunchie around it. That done, Jehan slides into the seat next to him, and both they and Bahorel stare at him expectantly. Enjolras sighs. “It's not set in stone yet,” he starts to say, but Jehan holds up a hand, stopping him before digging through their bag to produce a notebook.
“I've come up with a few names,” they announce formally, and open the notebook.
Enjolras sighs again, looking up at Bahorel. “I'm just excited to ram into other boats,” he says, shrugging and grinning back.
“I don't think we're supposed to-” Enjolras says, but Jehan holds up a hand.
“So what do you think of the Ravens?” they ask, and when Enjolras just stares at them helplessly they shake their head. “You're right, too cliché.” They cross off the name and say, “What about something to do with skulls?”
“You know, Cosette's dad knows some stuff about dragon boating,” Marius tells him a few days later, and Enjolras just gives up, he really does. He slumps down until his head is resting on the table, and from there he peers up at Marius. Marius is unaffected.
“I don't even know if we're going to have a team yet,” he says plaintively.
“He'd probably be willing to pay for some stuff too, he's big on charity cases,” Marius adds, ignoring Enjolras entirely. He suddenly seems to realize Enjolras is face down on the table and stares down at him for a moment, silent, before adding, “He doesn't want to coach, too much risk of him being recognized, but he'd be willing to teach you.”
“Recognized?” Enjolras parrots.
“I haven't even wanted to ask,” Marius replies solemnly.
Cosette's father is … interesting. The first thing he tells Enjolras upon opening the door is to “get inside, they're watching my every move”.
All of his windows are covered by curtains.
“So you want to learn to coach a dragon boat team,” Valjean says later, hands clasped around a mug of tea. Enjolras has one in front of him as well, despite not having asked for it. It steams up around him as he halfheartedly stirs it.
“I'm not sure we're even going to have a team, to be honest,” he says, and Valjean gives him a piercing look.
“A dragon boat team is something far beyond yourself, son. From what Cosette tells me, it sounds like you've already got a team, whether you want it or not.”
Enjolras groans, slumping in his seat. All he ever wanted to do was get through school and become a lawyer. “Alright, what do I need to know?” he asks, resigned. Valjean leans forward, steepling his fingers around his tea.
Apparently there are year-round teams. Enjolras joins one with Combeferre at his side for practice at five one morning. Five in the morning. Combeferre is annoyingly awake but Enjolras is still sullenly clutching his cup of coffee when the team's coach leads them down the ramp to the dock.
It's late September, and the sun is just beginning to come up as they all shrug into life jackets, the team regulars jostling each other in near silence as they pass around paddles, comparing lengths. Enjolras ends up with a long one and just stares at it dumbly, coffee in his other hand and life jacket half on, until Combeferre tuts at him, does up the rest of his life jacket, and gulps down the rest of his coffee. They both turn to stare at the boat, long and only about three feet wide at its widest, and Enjolras gulps quietly.
“Newbies!” the coach calls out, and Enjolras stares at her balefully. “I want you to work on your timing today, that's the most important thing,” she adds, voice carrying, and Combeferre nods dutifully. Enjolras is already shivering. “We'll work on technique once we're out on the water, but for now, just make sure you're in time,” the coach stresses, and then calls out, “Load up!”
The team starts piling into the boat, climbing from the one closest to the dock to the outer one, and Combeferre follows, his long limbs giving him an advantage as he makes his way almost to the back of the boat. Enjolras gulps again, shrugs to himself, and climbs into the inner boat. It rocks with the movement and he immediately crouches, wide-eyed, hands curled around the edges of the seats he's hovering over.
“Come on, newbie, we don't have all day,” one person calls over to him, and the whole team starts encouraging him over. He closes his eyes, gulps once more, and then slowly, inch by inch, slinks his way from the first boat to the next one, where he very quickly sits, hands clenched so tightly around his paddle that his knuckles are bone-white.
The boat pushes off from the dock, bobbing in the water, and Enjolras goes rigid, clinging to the side as it dips and frigid water cascades in. It rights itself immediately, sitting just a few inches off the water, and he's jostled forward as the person behind him stretches out along the side of the boat, paddle entering the water somewhere around his knee.
“Dude, you have to get your paddle in the water,” the person next to him hisses, and the coach calls out, “Take it away!” and the boat starts lurching forward. Enjolras closes his eyes, feels the boat's movement, quells his roiling stomache, and takes a deep breath before holding up his paddle and dipping it into the water.
An hour later the boat comes back to the dock and Enjolras stumbles off it on shaky legs, soaked to the bone and elated. He'd paddled. The coach only corrected him a few times, and he kept up for the most part, and he'd paddled.
“I think I might like to try tilling,” Combeferre remarks calmly, standing next to him. He's not nearly as wet as Enjolras is and he's watching with interest as the last person off the boat, a tall, lanky guy, straps something that looks remarkably like a longer, heavy paddle to the last seat.
Enjolras sighs, still shivering. “So I guess we have a team then,” he says, and Combeferre gives him a look.
“Enjolras, did you honestly think you had any say in that?” he asks, and walks off to talk to the team's tiller.
It turns out that Valjean has a handcarved canoe hiding in his garage. He won't tell Enjolras if he carved it or not, but they spend hours in it, Valjean showing him how to paddle and what to look for to correct other people's technique. He paddles in time to a metronome and Cosette sits on the step from the garage to the house, hats pulled low over her shaved head as she watches him.
“You're doing it wrong,” she tells him one afternoon and he snaps, twisting in his seat, mouth open to yell “Well, why don't you do it,” when she tells him “Now that's how you should be twisting, see? Hold it there,” she instructs, and he does, his hips still facing the front of the canoe and his upper body twisted around to look across it to where she is. “If you twist that far, you get a lot more reach,” she adds, crossing to his side of the boat and manhandling him until he's bent forward slightly, paddle stretched out. It hovers in the air just outside of the boat, and the blade is several feet in front of him.
“Why don't you coach the team?” he asks her, and she shakes her head.
“I'll paddle, I'll bench coach, but I don't want to stand on the boat.” She laughs. “The water's really cold.”
His parents are delighted to pay for the team, not just for one race but for two; the Rose Festival race, with its giant, colourful boats, and the one in Olympia at the end of April. Bahorel starts calling them the Corinthians and somehow the name sticks, and suddenly they're a team. The first meeting for the Rose Festival race comes and goes and Enjolras and Combeferre both attend the next one, where a member of the Coast Guard tells them all about the hazards lurking below the surface of the river. Enjolras dreams about boats crashing into rocks for two nights afterward.
He finds Combeferre curled up on their couch reading books about boats more than once. Feuilly walks up to him at one of their meetings with a hand-carved paddle, the handle of which fits exactly under his armpit. He comes to the next one with one for everyone else as well, even Gavroche. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta together produce an enormous banner at another meeting, and Bossuet somehow ends up wrapped in it on the floor. Eponine even grudgingly brings Cosette along to one of their meetings, surprising Enjolras. After that, Cosette starts quietly teaching one person at a time how to paddle with the lightweight wooden paddle she carries everywhere, covered in stickers from around the world and obviously well-used. Anyone who tries to watch receives a death glare that rivals Enjolras'.
Jehan produces at least ten different ideas for logos and every one contains a skull until Enjolras finally tells them that the team is not going for the Romantic period, thank you very much, but something just a bit more modern. They're almost offended before they say, very loudly, “Well, you know, R is actually an artist too, he could probably whip something up,” and then Grantaire is looking up and meeting Enjolras' eyes.
Something like fear flicks over the artist's face before his expression settles firmly into disaffected boredom. “I guess I could,” he drawls, “But I'm still not sure what y'all hope to accomplish with this.”
“Community outreach,” Enjolras replies, stilted. He's never sure how to deal with Grantaire; Grantaire who shows up at every meeting, sits in the corner very pointedly turning down every offer of a drink sent his way to instead heckle every one of Enjolras' views when he isn't completely ignoring them all to draw instead. Who does that?
Grantaire shrugs in answer, a fluid motion. “Fine,” he says, and Enjolras lets out a little sigh of relief. “You want dragons, right?” Enjolras nods and Grantaire squints at him for a moment before pushing glasses onto his nose and dragging a drawing book and a pen out of his bag.
Combeferre attends the tiller training one windy morning and Enjolras stands on the dock with Courfeyrac, hands in his armpits for warmth as they watch the tiller's boat leave the shelter of the marina, turn in a slow, ponderous circle, and then enter the marina, backing its way into a parked position next to the other boats. Each tiller on the boat gets a turn at this, and it takes three hours, but Combeferre finally gets off the boat glowing with quiet pride; only two people had actually lost control of their boats, but he was the only one to back into the parking spot without help on the first try.
Courfeyrac stares at him in awe. “Three hours,” he states, and helps Combeferre pull his lifejacket off when his arms just won't move right. “Three hours paddling that shit,” Courfeyrac repeats, and turns to glare at Enjolras. “Tell me we aren't going to paddle for three hours.”
Combeferre laughs. “No, we only go out for an hour at a time,” he says before Enjolras can do more than just throw his arms up for defense, and Courfeyrac visibly deflates.
“We're taking breaks,” he tells Enjolras decisively, and Enjolras just nods.
“Courf, this was your idea in the first place,” Combeferre reminds him gently.
Courfeyrac pouts. “That was before I knew it was actual work .”
Their first practice is in the rain, a torrential downpour that leaves enough water in the boats that they immediately have to start bailing them out. Enjolras has a message on his phone from Grantaire (“srry boss not risking a cold in this”) and the only person on the boat who isn't from their meetings is a friend of Musichetta's, Floreal. They have twelve paddlers, two more than the minimum, and Combeferre seems to almost be vibrating with excitement at the back of the boat, so Enjolras miserably pulls his hood up around his curls and steps onto the front of the boat.
They do badly; Combeferre almost runs them into a pillar, and Enjolras can't seem to get the boat to keep timing with Cosette and Eponine at the front, but when everyone gets off after an hour, soaked to the skin and sore, they all pat Enjolras on the back and tell him he did fine. After they scatter, he's left at the top of the ramp to the dock, shivering next to Combeferre.
“I told you it wouldn't be so bad,” Combeferre tells him.
The team builds up slowly, with friends filtering in and out, until Gavroche brings in six other kids from his high school and they find themselves with at least eighteen people at each practice, if not a full boat of twenty. Enjolras spends a lot of time listening in on Cosette as she sits next to every new paddler and coaches them along and the team improves, going from “caterpillar-ing” as Cosette calls it when the paddlers all get out of timing to efficiency and speed. Bahorel and Feuilly, in the back of the boat, are enough to propel them all forward on their own, and Cosette gets them all to play a version of tug-of-war, with the back half of the team facing out past the tail of the boat.
Grantaire comes only sometimes, and complains the entire time until Enjolras ends up yelling at him and starting an argument in the boat that has every other paddler giggling. Amazingly, Grantaire never misses a single beat with his paddling, and his technique is perfect enough that Cosette sometimes ends up just sitting next to him and chatting in low voices. Enjolras can't say why this bothers him but he's noticed Combeferre giving him concerned looks from the back of the boat.
Valjean comes out with them during the third week of practices, sitting about halfway down the boat. Enjolras is a ball of nervous energy the entire time, but Valjean simply ignores him, instead quietly and very gently correcting the technique of the kid, one of Gav's friends, sitting in front of him. After the practice he claps Enjolras heartily on the back and says, “You're doing well. Come over later and I can give you a few more exercises to work with the team on.”
Grantaire sends Enjolras the files for the shirt logo, a mass of stylized waves surrounding a red dragon holding a paddle. A red flag is tied to the handle, and it flows down to meet the waves. It's beautiful.