Work Text:
Les Amis Groupchat
[16:03]
COURFrageous
I want to go clubbing.
yourbiggestFAN
No
BarrelofLaughs
Can’t :( Sorry bud.
RhymeAndRosé
Me either :(
[Seen: FerreReal, Rebelutionary, Loverboy, LaVieCosette]
GrilledBreadToppedWithOliveOilAndSalt
I’m busy doing things tonight.
HairlesslyDevotedToYou
I’m things.
DiDSoMeOnEjUsTCoUgH
I’m things!
Eh
Count me out. Not after last time
FerreReal
What happened last time?
Eh
Courf ended up puking in the back of an Uber and let me tell you, the driver was PISSED.
COURFrageous
I offered to clean it and he said no. :( I missed the window!! And I tipped him a full extra 150 on top of the fare, so…
yourbiggestFAN
Tell me why anyone would choose to have a drunk guy who just vomited in your car clean it, knowing there's a good chance he'll vomit again?
BarrelOfLaughs
It’d be funny.
DiDSoMeOnEjUsTCoUgH
No more vomit talk…
LaVieCosette
You know, I’ve never been clubbing.
R(hapsodic)
Never?
HairlesslyDevotedToYou
Nice to see you’re awake, R.
COURFrageous
@LaVieCosette YOU’VE NEVER BEEN CLUBBING??? WE’RE GOING. TONIGHT.
@R(hapsodic) You coming??
COURFrageous
@R(hapsodic)
COURFrageous
@R(hapsodic)
COURFrageous
@R(hapsodic)
DiDSoMeOnEjUsTCoUgH
He’s asleep again. ‘Chetta just checked.
Rebelutionary
It’s 4pm?
LaVieCosette
Okay! Sure, that sounds fun. No puking this time though.
COURFrageous
Not a promise I can make but we’ll see. Come to my place for pre-drinks? @FerreREAL @Rebelutionary this is your warning I’m having a guest.
LaVieCosette
Okay :) I’ll text you!
GrilledBreadToppedWithOliveOilAndSalt
Promise me pictures? I wanna see the fit and the drunk selfies!
COURFrageous
I can promise that one!! You’ll get them!
[17:46]
R(hapsodic)
@Rebelutionary What have you got against naps?
Cosette has never been clubbing.
It feels like a crime against nature, somehow. Courfeyrac shakes his head, bemused but not surprised. There was no way that her father would’ve let an eighteen year old Cosette loose on the streets of Paris. It was just a blessing that she lived alone now, and was allowed some independence.
Is there a special dress code? What does one usually wear clubbing? - Cosette
Something you can dance and sweat in for an indeterminate amount of hours. Other people will probably sweat on you, too. You’ll be drunk though so the sweat won’t matter. Just something comfy and sexy. - Courfeyrac
Comfy and sexy? It’s a hard ask, but I think I can pull it off. - Cosette
This is what I’m wearing. - Courfeyrac
His mirror selfie is inelegant, the flash too bright and it obscures half of Courfeyrac’s face, only a mess of dark curls erupting from behind his phone. Cosette knows what his face looks like though and the picture does the job, showing off his outfit.
He's chosen a cropped black tank top that showcases his midriff, paired perfectly with a relaxed, short-sleeved black button-up shirt left open so that everyone knows how casual he is. His black pants aren’t tight but tailored to fit the boxy silhouette. On his feet are a pair of stylish black boots with a sensible heel, perfect for dancing in. He completes the look with a couple of golden hoops in his lobes and a gold chain to match, bright and bold and hanging against his chest.
So handsome! - Cosette
Should I wear a dress? - Cosette
Are you comfy in a dress? Especially if you get a little drunk and messy? Or will you spend the whole night pulling it down (or up) and worrying if anything’s showing? Just be you, ok? It’s gonna be great. - Courfeyrac
[Cosette would like to Facetime]
Courfeyrac laughs quietly, accepting the call and opening to her beautiful smile, her face filling up the entire screen, “Hi,” she beams, “I’m hopeless. Is it okay if I show you a couple of options?”
“Totally fine! Give me a fashion show, baby.”
She laughs, and he almost gets motion sick as she spins around and props him up between a couple of books, “Alright, so this is the first option…”
What follows is forty minutes in which Cosette showcases most of her wardrobe. Courfeyrac doesn’t mind at all; he likes every single one of them, and she has great taste so they’re almost all appropriate. She runs through the pros and cons of each outfit, and he comments on them all, getting her to try on some that end up being in the maybe pile. There’s pantsuits and rompers, short dresses and maxi dresses. They try dozens of combinations of colours and stripes and patterns, but nothing feels right.
His phone dings, and he winces, “Two seconds, just got a text,” he says, switching apps.
hey have you left yet? R and I are coming. - Éponine
Courfeyrac stares down at his phone in surprise, triple checking the name. Éponine was coming? She had seemed so against it in the group chat.
No, still at mine. If you’re driving, go pick up Cosette? She hasn’t left yet. Having a wardrobe crisis. - Courfeyrac
Will do, we’ll be at hers in ten. We’re gonna crash on your couch tonight. - Éponine
Duh. Both of you better bring your A game. - Courfeyrac
When don’t we? - Éponine
Courfeyrac laughs, delighted, as he switches back to their call, “Hey, Cosette? Éponine and Grantaire are coming tonight. They’re going to pick you up in like, ten minutes.”
He glances back to the video call and his jaw drops.
The dress she’s in isn’t one of the ones he’s seen before. She stands radiant in a royal blue bodycon dress with a high scooped neckline with ruching at the hips. It’s simple yet elegant, and even in the grainy camera, she’s absolutely beautiful. She looks like a goddess descended from the heavens.
“Gorgeous. Freaking gorgeous,” he exclaims, “That one’s it. You look stunning, Cosette. Where has that little number been hiding?”
“Why thank you,” she says with a grin, giving a twirl. The skirt flares but it keeps her modest and he applauds, “It’s just been in the back of my closet, waiting for the perfect opportunity to wear.”
“Perfect. Now, have you eaten?” she shakes her head and he tuts softly, “You’re going drinking,” he says, “You have to eat. Preferably something with bread. “
“I’ve heard Grantaire say that eating’s cheating when you’re going for a night out,” she points out and he squawks.
“Do not take drinking lessons from Grantaire, for the love of god. I’ll order us all some burgers. Now go sort out your hair and make-up. Oh, and if you can, stuff your ID into your phone case. As fun as a clutch is, you’re not gonna want to worry about it all night, or better yet, wonder where it’s ended up tomorrow morning,” he grins, “I’ll see you soon!”
Satisfied with the arrangements, he ends the call and leaves his bedroom, crossing to the hallway that separates Enjolras’ and Combeferre’s rooms. He stands between the two open doors, stretching himself so he can knock a different pattern with both fists. Enjolras’ eyes are already on him and have been since he appeared in the hallway, but Combeferre has to take out one earbud before he turns his attention to Courfeyrac.
“Hi,” he says, rocking on his heels to compensate for the way his head turns back and forth to address them both, “Cosette, Grantaire and Éponine are all gonna be here soon for pre-drinks. We can hang out in my room if it’s gonna be too loud in the kitchen?”
Combeferre’s eyebrows rise almost comically at the collection of names, but he doesn’t question it, “No, I don’t mind the noise if you’re all going out shortly anyway.”
“Grantaire will be here?” Enjolras asks, and a minute frown crinkles his brow before he continues, “You’ll look after Cosette, right?”
Courfeyrac rolls his eyes at Enjolras, fond but exasperated, “No, I’m going to leave her in the middle of the city to fend for herself,” he grins but then his face drops as he considers, “Wow, could you imagine? Her father would kill me. But no, trust me, it’s not like I’m looking to go home with anyone tonight. It’s just fun. I’ll bring them all back here to crash once we’re all wasted.”
“All four of you?”
“Grantaire and I can cuddle, and I’ll pull out the fold out couch for the girls.”
Enjolras’ frown only seems to get deeper at the notion of Grantaire cuddling with Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac has to look away to hide his smirk. He knew there was something going on there.
“I’m going to get Cosette addicted to clubbing, I think. She’s gonna love it, especially going out with us.”
Enjolras looks dubious, but he shifts to appraise Courfeyrac’s outfit, “You look good,” he nods, and while it’s a compliment, his opinion holds no worth. Enjolras doesn’t care about fashion, doesn’t really understand how colours and patterns are supposed to go together, but Courfeyrac appreciates the effort nonetheless, “Have you eaten?”
Courfeyrac squeaks, “Oh, shit. I was going to order burgers. Cosette forgot to eat,” he says, pulling out his phone and quickly ordering a couple of different burgers from the closest restaurant, “But yes, I’ve eaten. I’m good at drinking, don’t forget.”
Enjolras nods, satisfied, and returns to his book, though he seems slightly more on edge than he did before Courfeyrac arrived.
“You sure you don’t want to come with us, ‘Ferre?” Courfeyrac teases, knowing full well the answer.
Combeferre chuckles softly. “I think I’ll pass. I have a thesis draft that’s due soon.”
‘Soon’ could be anywhere between a week and six months away, but Courfeyrac won’t needle him about it.
“Your loss. It’s going to be great.”
The doorbell rings, and Courfeyrac’s face lights up. He bounds down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, “That’ll be them! Get ready for some noise!”
Courfeyrac flings the door open to reveal Cosette, Grantaire, and Éponine, feeling his heart swell to five times the size as he grins at them.
Cosette looks even more beautiful in person than she had in the tiny window of his iPhone. Her make-up is natural, just a hint of brown on her eyelids to contrast against her blue eyes, her hair falls in gentle, perfect waves, framing her face. She completes the whole look with black strappy block heels, and silver jewellery matching through her earrings, necklace, bracelet and rings.
Beside her, Éponine surprises him by wearing a dress, which isn’t unusual, but she usually opts for more casual whenever they’re out clubbing. It’s sleek and black, hugging her figure tightly with the hem just above her knees. The dress has a daring, asymmetrical neckline, adorned with subtle metallic accents that catch the light with her every move. She holds up a bottle of cheap vodka as an offering.
And Grantaire, oh Grantaire, is a vision in an emerald green button-down shirt, which contrasts against his charcoal grey blazer. His dark jeans are sinfully tight, so stylish even though he’s clearly opted for the comfort option tonight. He’s even managed to tame his curls, and Courfeyrac resists the urge to run his fingers through them.
“Look at you all!” Courfeyrac exclaims, “You’re all absolutely killing it. I have the most attractive friends in the world. Come in, come in.”
Cosette gives him a wide-eyed smile as they move into the apartment, spreading out in the kitchen. Éponine and Cosette perch carefully on the barstools, heels off to save their feet before they have to be on them for the rest of the night.
Grantaire leans against the counter, and Courfeyrac catches him glancing curiously down the hallway.
“So, tell me something,” Cosette says, glancing between them all, “Why do we do pre-drinks? Why don’t we just drink there?”
“Two reasons,” Courfeyrac holds up two fingers, before he shakes his head and holds up another finger, “Three reasons. Firstly: sometimes you rock up to a club sober and nobody’s dancing, and you either gotta be the first one on the dancefloor, or you spend the whole time hovering and waiting for someone to take the leap. That someone is usually Jehan, at least, but when you’re not with them, getting a little buzzed shakes all the nerves out,” he explains, “Secondly, it’s a way to kill time. The ideal club time is just before they enact the cover charge, and that time kind of varies, depending on the club. But I hate waiting around and not doing anything until then because sometimes I’ll get so sleepy and bored that I just end up napping on the couch instead of going out.”
“Thirdly,” Éponine interjects as she pours the four of them their first shot, “Drinks at the club are fuckin’ expensive, so you want to get buzzed enough at home that you can hang on until happy hour. Or,” she says, with a small smile as she glances over at Cosette, ”You find someone pretty to buy your drinks for you.”
Courfeyrac nods emphatically, but he can see Cosette’s eyes have gotten very large, a slight blush on her cheeks.
Grantaire chuckles, wrapping his arm around Cosette and hugging her against his side, “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fun. We’ll take care of you.”
“Have a drink, you’ll relax a little. Bottom’s up,” Éponine says, grinning brightly as she takes her first shot.
“That’s the spirit! Get it?” Courfeyrac laughs, reaching for his own shot glass and throwing it back. It’s gross and he makes a face; vodka is not Courfeyrac’s favourite, but he didn’t want to mess around with a thousand different liquors tonight, “Hang on, I’ll get some music on!”
Courfeyrac knows that Cosette isn’t a big drinker - they all know this. When they meet at the Corinthe or the Musain, she has a glass of wine, maybe two, if she ends up drinking anything at all. Courfeyrac isn’t even sure if he’s ever seen her with anything heavier.
“Uh,” she covers her giggle with a hand over her mouth, “I’ve never done shots before..”
That’s a no, then.
“It’s not hard, just watch the master and learn,” Grantaire says, pulling both of their glasses closer.
“Uh, actually, Courfeyrac told me not to take any of your drinking advice,” she teases, and Grantaire fakes a wounded noise, a hand over his heart.
“Courfeyrac, how dare you,”
“Cosette told me that she heard you say that eating was cheating once-” he pauses while Éponine almost loses her next drink in a splutter of laughter, “And after that I could no longer take you seriously as an expert..”
Grantaire pauses, considering Cosette for a minute, before he nods, “I retract my statement. My advice sucks. But,” he revises, “my instruction on shot-having is impeccable.”
“Alright,” Cosette nods, “Show me.”
“Firstly, after you pick up your shot, before you throw it back, you always tap it on the table - carefully. You don’t wanna spill,” he says, demonstrating with a quick tap.
Cosette blinks, “Why?”
“It’s a sign of respect,” Grantaire explains, “To the bar, the bartender, the person who poured your shot,” he says, winking over at Éponine.
Cosette nods, and she taps the bottom of her shot glass onto the table, glancing over at Éponine - who had poured her shot - with a small smile, “Okay, check. Do we get to do the cheers thing?”
Grantaire grins, “Cheers first, if you’re gonna, then tap. The tap is the last thing you do before you drink,” he says, and Courfeyrac watches as Éponine pours another shot for herself and Courfeyrac, so they can join in on the demonstration, “Then once you’re ready, put it to your lips, and then tip - head and shot glass - all back in one, it should be well past your throat by the time you swallow.”
Cosette looks overwhelmed, and Éponine sidles up to her other side, “If you panic, just drink it really fast like normal, but try not to let it linger in your mouth. The more you taste, the worse it is and the more likely you are to want to spit it back up.”
“Okay,” she nods, suddenly determined.
They say cheers, to Cosette’s delight, shot glasses clinking and in danger of spilling over. Soft taps follow as their glasses hit the counter, then they all throw their heads back together to take the shot.
Cosette’s a natural and she manages to get it down without coughing or spilling or gagging. She does screw her face up though, “Oh, yuck- that’s- disgusting.”
Éponine laughs, “You get used to it; it stops tasting like jet fuel after a while. Especially if you mix something with it. And the drunker you get, the better it tastes too.”
The doorbell signals the arrival of their food, and from there, the pre-drinks flow smoothly, with Courfeyrac playing the perfect host, making sure everyone's glasses are never empty and that the music keeps the energy high. They move on from shots to cocktails, and Grantaire impresses them all with how many different drinks he can make with vodka and the strange assortment of mixers and fruits in Courfeyrac’s cupboard.
They’re all more than a little tipsy when they get interrupted.
“For the rowdy warning I got from Courfeyrac, you’re not actually very loud.” The four of them pause where they stand, looking like chastised children caught in a forbidden act. Combeferre and Enjolras stand in the hallway, and Combeferre continues, “We came to see you out, and to take pictures for Musichetta.”
Courfeyrac glances at the time in surprise, “Oh shit, it’s time to go,” he laughs, reaching for his phone and ordering an uber, “Alright, how are we all feeling?”
Cosette grins, her face flushed as she nods, “So good,” she giggles, sliding off her chair and steadying herself on Éponine’s arm.
“One more shot for the road,” Courfeyrac announces, “Gonna join us?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows at his housemates.
Combeferre chuckles, shaking his head. “Not tonight.”
Enjolras crosses his arms, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll pass as well, but we’ll make sure you get out the door in one piece.”
Courfeyrac laughs, “Alright, more for us then!” he pours the last round of shots, and they all raise their glasses, clinking them together.
It might’ve been a mistake, if the way Courfeyrac starts to sway is any indication. But it’s fine, he’s absolutely fine and it’s good. They pose for photos, but Courfeyrac manages to get a couple of candid ones, and a few selfies with each of them too.
With a final laugh and a flurry of grabbing coats and shoes, they make their way to the door. Combeferre and Enjolras watch them with fond smiles, offering last-minute reminders to be safe and have fun.
He pretends to be sober as he hauls the door to the Uber open, smiling a little too wide and manic as he makes polite conversation with the driver. He can hear Cosette and Éponine giggling in the back, and he loves this feeling; this adventure while he’s inebriated, completely in control but perhaps not totally at the wheel. If it were up to him, he’d live every day like this, although perhaps not in the same way that Grantaire does.
He just loves it; weightless and carefree, with his friends laughing in the background.
It’s going to be a great night.
They arrive in the city at the perfect time.
Courfeyrac holds tight to Cosette’s hand and leads her through the bustling streets, dodging already-drunk groups and people just trying to get home from work. The bar is called Retros, with a neon theme that makes the entire building glow like a brilliant beacon. Bright lights flash intermittently, matching the pulse of the music that he can already feel from outside.
“Here we are!” Courfeyrac announces with a flourish, checking to make sure Grantaire and Éponine have followed, before opening the door and letting the thumping bass wash over them. The bouncer barely glances at their IDs before stamping their wrists and waving them inside.
Inside, the club is a riot of colour and sound. Strobe lights cut through the dark haze, illuminating the dance floor where people are already moving in rhythm with the heavy beat.
Courfeyrac turns to his friends, his face lit up with excitement. “It’s happy hour! I’m going to get us our first round. Find somewhere fun to sit!”
Cosette can’t nod because she’s so busy looking around with wide eyes, taking in the people and their outfits, trying to peer through the darkness at the drinking and dancing. She clings a little closer to Grantaire and Éponine, who flank her protectively as they head off to find a table, but she seems more intrigued than nervous.
At the bar, Courfeyrac leans over, shouting his order to the bartender. “Four vodka lemonades!” he enunciates as much as he can, his voice barely carrying over the pounding music. The bartender nods like they understand, and Courfeyrac watches to make sure it really is the vodka that comes out.
Once he’s paid, he carefully pushes all the glasses together to hold them without spilling, expertly navigating his way through the crowd to his friends. Éponine has her mouth against Cosette’s ear, likely murmuring reassurances, possibly explaining club etiquette; Courfeyrac doesn’t know. Whatever it is, it’s cute and strangely intimate. He loves clubbing.
He can’t be bothered shouting over the music, so he raises his drink in a toast, and the others follow suit. Grantaire shouts something and he’s grinning, so Courfeyrac just cheers in response.
They clink their glasses together - Cosette still seems pleased every time it happens - and take their first sips. It goes down easier than the shots, and within a couple of gulps, Courfeyrac’s glass is empty. Grantaire has matched his pace and they grin at each other, almost manic. The buzz from before is back, and Courfeyrac feels a little silly and so, so alive.
“Let’s dance!” Courfeyrac shouts, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Cosette hesitates for a moment, then nods, downing the last of her drink. She isn’t sure where to put it until she watches Éponine just leave hers on the table. She gestures to it with the most adorably confused expression and Éponine just laughs, scanning the floor and pointing to the glass-collector that’s walking around with a tub, picking up empty glasses as they go.
They move as a group to the dance floor, and Courfeyrac is just drunk enough that there’s no lingering weirdness. He finds the rhythm, bopping in time, before it takes over his whole body. Surrounded by the flashing lights and the energy of the crowd, he loses himself in the moment, spinning around before he remembers to check on Cosette. She’s laughing, one hand clasped in Éponine’s as they shimmy together, making up nonsense dance moves to the pounding beat.
Courfeyrac reaches out to take Cosette’s other hand, spinning her before moving in to dip her, only barely hearing her laughter. He lets her go back to Éponine and turns to Grantaire, pulling the other man against him in a closed hold. They waltz around the crowd clumsily to a song that absolutely does not suit the waltz, making everyone around them laugh and do their own renditions.
The next song requires jumping, and Courfeyrac loves jumping. They jump together, the four of them, and Courfeyrac jumps on someone else in the crowd and gets jumped on in turn, and he just doesn’t care. It’s so fun. There’s something chaotic about the energy here, the lack of inhibitions and the anonymity of it all. He can be anyone and anything inside this club, and nobody knows and nobody cares. It’s just him and the music, and all these people around him.
It’s four songs later that Courfeyrac immediately needs another drink, and Grantaire buys the next round. Cosette is flushed and happy, gulping down her vodka lemonade as quickly as Courfeyrac and Grantaire do.
Courfeyrac turns back to the bar once their drinks are empty, holding up the number four and shouting ‘water’ over the noise. Once again the bartender somehow understands him, and four glasses of icy water appear in front of them.
Cosette’s eyes gleam as she takes her own, taking a quick couple of sips.
A hand on his arm makes Courfeyrac turn, but it’s just Grantaire, miming that he’s stepping out for a smoke, before leaning in to shout into Courfeyrac’s ear, “Some quiet time?”
Courfeyrac eyes Cosette, who still looks a little flushed and breathless, and nods. Grantaire disappears into the crowd with his water as he leans close to the girls, “I know somewhere we can sit and talk.”
He leads them through the club, through doors and pathways and down a set of stairs until the music finally starts to fade,although even without it, he’s gone slightly deaf. They’re outside, the cool air fresh against their sweaty skin. The picnic tables down here have always felt weirdly out of place but Courfeyrac is always grateful for them; there’s hardly ever anyone down here.
Cosette and Éponine flop onto the seats, clutching their waters like it’s the last liquid they’ll ever drink.
“How’re you feeling?” Courfeyrac asks, speaking a little too loud for the quiet outside.
Cosette finishes a long sip, “Good! I’m so good. This is so much fun! And there are so many people! I can’t believe I’ve never done this before.”
“Are you gonna come out again with us?” Éponine asks, nudging her gently.
“Of course. I can’t wait until the whole group can go out together. That’ll be so great. We’ll take up almost all of the dance floor.”
“Oh, Cosette. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched us start a drunken conga line. And when the Time Warp, from Rocky Horror comes on? You can bet your ass we’re all on the floor at the end, sticky shirts be damned,” Courfeyrac tells her,
Cosette giggles into her hands helplessly, “I can’t wait!”
Éponine is quiet, but she usually is, even when she’s been drinking. Courfeyrac has watched her most of the night, at the way she can’t take her eyes off Cosette. She’s always checking in, taking her hand, dancing with her and making sure she’s okay. It’s unexpected, but sweet.
Grantaire joins them after a couple more minutes that they sit there, digesting the night so far. He kisses the top of Cosette’s head as he passes, squeezing Éponine’s shoulder, before he settles in beside Courfeyrac and leans against him for a moment.
“More dancing?” he asks, trying to catch Cosette’s eyes. It takes her a moment to focus her drunken gaze.
“More vodka. Then more dancing,” she says, making the table laugh.
They down the rest of their waters, and Cosette and Éponine disappear to the bathroom together. They emerge almost fifteen minutes later - Courfeyrac was ready to send in a search party - with Cosette sporting the widest grin and animatedly explaining the new best friends she met there - some girls that she took a selfie with who complimented her dress like it was the most beautiful thing on the planet. She doesn’t know their names and couldn’t point them out of a lineup, but they’re definitely her Best Friends.
Back on the dance floor after another quick drink, the next couple of hours blur together in a haze of neon lights and pounding bass.
Their group is lost in the music when a stranger approaches Éponine. At first, Courfeyrac doesn't notice, too caught up in the rhythm and the infectious energy around him. But then he sees Éponine’s face. Her smile falters, and she starts sending clear signals that she doesn’t want to dance with him: stepping away, turning her body slightly, and avoiding eye contact. The stranger, either oblivious or ignoring her discomfort, persists, moving closer and trying to engage her.
Courfeyrac knows Éponine can handle herself, but there’s a strange sort of fury in him at the same time. Drunk or not, this asshole needs to back up. He moves to step in, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Grantaire moving beside him too. Instead, Cosette surprises them, a beat or two ahead of their idea.
She works her hands between the stranger and Éponine, prying them apart and sliding between them with a confidence that catches the stranger off guard..
“Hey!” Courfeyrac can’t hear her over the noise of the music, barely able to read her lips in the flickering strobes, but he gets the gist. She’s ferocious as she glares up at him, “She’s not interested in you. Can you give us some space?”
The stranger, momentarily taken aback, glances between Éponine and Cosette. He seems to weigh his options, then shrugs and moves away, disappearing into the crowd.
Cosette pokes her tongue out at him long after he’s gone, turning back to Éponine and that radiant smile is back.
“Thank you!” Éponine shouts at her, and Cosette just wraps her up in a hug, squeezing her tight.
Courfeyrac glances at Grantaire, who watches them both like the realisation has just dawned on him. Grantaire looks back at Courfeyrac, shrugging and grinning, before he starts to dance again.
As the night wears on, they dance until their legs ache and their voices are hoarse from shouting over the music. They take breaks to hydrate and drink and catch their breath, but always find their way back to the dance floor, drawn by the irresistible pull of the music.
It’s nearing two in the morning when Cosette finally hits her limit.
They’re having a water break, and Courfeyrac can feel himself starting to sober up, so it’s definitely time for more alcohol if the night is going to go on for longer.
“Another round?” he asks, but Cosette shakes her head.
“I’m so tired,” she says with an apologetic laugh, “My bedtime is usually nine-thirty.”
She does look exhausted, and Courfeyrac chuckles and grins, “Alright,” he says, glancing over at Grantaire and Éponine, “Ready to call it a night?”
They both nod, and Courfeyrac blows a kiss to the bartender as they make their way back outside. His ears are completely shot this time, and he pulls out his phone to order an uber, his fingers managing to not waywardly hit any crazy extra buttons. He’s still pleasantly buzzed; the drinks kept him steadily on the edge of drunk all night, but it’s starting to wear off.
He can tell Grantaire feels the same; the mixed alcohol barely even makes a dent in what he’d usually be drinking, but neither of them had wanted Cosette to try and to match their regular pace. That could all come later.
“This one here,” Courfeyrac flags down the right number plate, greeting the driver as he slides into the passenger seat.
Cosette winds down the window almost immediately, breathing in the cool air.
“Feeling alright?” Éponine asks her carefully, and she nods.
“I’m not gonna be sick,” she assures, “Just want the air.”
Courfeyrac glances behind, watching Éponine rub her back anyway.
The Uber ride is quiet, the low hum of the car and the cool breeze calming them all down. Courfeyrac watches the city lights blur past, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. It’s been such a good night, no drama, no chaos. Just good fun with incredible people.
By the time they pull up to their apartment building, everyone seems more grounded, the buzz of the club fading into the background.
Courfeyrac thanks the driver and they make their way up the stairs, trying not to make too much noise. Cosette can’t help a giggle, still a little drunk and suddenly amused by the idea of having to be quiet. It doesn’t help when Courfeyrac drops the keys the second he steps inside, the sound echoing against the hardwood floors like an anvil being dropped on glass.
When there’s no stirring from beyond the hallway, they creep further inside.
“Home sweet home,” Courfeyrac declares, kicking off his shoes as he reaches for the lights.
The fold-out couch has been pulled out, and has clean sheets and pillows on it, courtesy of Combeferre and Enjolras. Courfeyrac’s heart melts, doubly so when he finds four water bottles perched on the kitchen counter, waiting for them.
“Ugh, I love them so much,” Courfeyrac murmurs, reaching for the bottles and tossing them to his friends.
Cosette takes her bottle and immediately heads for the fold out once her heels are off, flopping down with a sigh. “That was so amazing,” she says, grinning up at them all.
Grantaire stretches, taking a long swig of his water, “That was just phase one, sweetheart. That was a normal night. Then there’s club hopping. Getting so drunk you puke down a drain. Staying until the club closes. Public transport while you’re wasted… there are so many possibilities.”
“This is another one of those times when you don’t listen to his advice,” Éponine flops beside Cosette, “None of those things are actually fun.”
“Aw, you gotta get into a little trouble sometimes,” Courfeyrac protests, “Otherwise there are no good stories to tell. One morning I was so hungover and I was taking the train home from… somewhere, who knows where now- and I could’ve taken the express, but I was feeling kind of shit? So I took the all-stations, and wouldn’t you know it? Four stops in, I had to evacuate the train and knelt in the grossest public bathroom known to man so I could vomit my guts out into an actual toilet instead of a train carriage. It was simultaneously the proudest and worst I’d ever felt.”
There’s a beat, before Éponine chimes in, “If that was supposed to be inspiring, you did a terrible job.”
Grantaire chuckles and steps up to the small group, raising his water bottle for one last toast, “Here’s to a great night,” he says.
Cosette hauls herself up, grinning widely, “A fantastic night!”
Éponine and Courfeyrac follow suit, clinking their water bottles.
As the conversation winds down, Courfeyrac’s chest blooms with warmth, deeply satisfied with how the night went. They all begin to settle in, Éponine and Cosette curling up on the couch with blankets while Grantaire and Courfeyrac head sleepily to his room.
They both climb into Courfeyrac’s bed, the familiarity of the routine bringing a sense of comfort. It’s not the first time they’ve ended a night like this, sharing a bed after a long night out, and it won’t be the last. They’re rarely this sober when it does happen though. As Courfeyrac lays there, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for nights like these and for friends like his.
“Oh,” he murmurs, “I’ve gotta upload photos for ‘chetta,” he murmurs, finding his phone.
He scrolls through the photos from the night and checks the group chat, chuckling when he finds that Cosette, Éponine and Grantaire have been taking candids and uploading them to the chat all night. Each one captures the spirit of their night: the laughter, the dancing, the moments of sheer joy. Musichetta has commented on every single one of them, variations of excitement and love hearts. Courfeyrac downloads every single one of them.
Courfeyrac quickly uploads his own photos and sets his phone down, stretching out with a long groan.
He turns to see Grantaire already half-asleep beside him, his arm flung over his eyes.
"Hey, R," Courfeyrac whispers, nudging him gently.
"Mmm?" Grantaire grunts, not bothering to lift his arm.
"Did you notice Cosette and Éponine tonight?" Courfeyrac continues, keeping his voice low.
Grantaire moves his arm slightly, peeking out with one eye. "Yeah, hard not to. They were practically glued together."
Courfeyrac smiles, thinking back to the way the two girls had danced, laughed, and supported each other all night. "It's nice, isn't it?"
Grantaire hums in agreement, closing his eyes again. "Yeah, it is. They looked happy."
"I didn't think Cosette would take to clubbing so well," Courfeyrac admits, shifting to get more comfortable. "But Éponine was like her own personal guide. And the way Cosette fended off that creep?"
Grantaire chuckles softly. "’Ponine's good at that. Knows how to make people feel at ease when she wants to. I’m also never getting on Cosette’s bad side, that’s for sure. She’s feisty."
Courfeyrac feels a warm contentment settle over him. "You know, I think this might be one of my favourite nights out. Not just because of the clubbing, but because of... everything."
"Same here," Grantaire murmurs, his voice growing softer with sleep.
He’s almost out, and Courfeyrac won’t bother him anymore, staring up at the ceiling instead. He’s not that tired, mind still racing.
His phone goes off at the same time as Grantaire’s does; a telltale sign it’s the groupchat. Courfeyrac grabs his phone and Grantaire grumbles quietly, but he manages to open his eyes. Courfeyrac holds the phone between them so they can both see the message, unable to contain his grin when he reads it.
[3:32]
LaVieCosette
Hey, everyone. I wanna go clubbing!