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English
Series:
Part 2 of Chums of the Pub
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Published:
2013-02-02
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1,840
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1/1
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2
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2
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325

Sunny Afternoon

Summary:

Just a standard Sunday at the Musain with the group. Some people doing homework, some people doing nothing. Oh, and Courfeyrac is pissed the jukebox is broken.

Work Text:

"The jukebox is broken," Courfeyrac announced walking back into the fold. He took a gulp of his fresh pint as he turned a chair around to sit on, folding his arms over the back of it, and nodding to Eponine who had taken the place he was previously sat in next to Enjolras. "That's why its so quiet. Speakers work, though, anyone got an mp3 on them?" 

The question was met with a round of laughter, and a particularly loud snort from Bahorel. "Sorry, mate, but there's no way you're hooking my phone up to that system. Its in the back room, anyway, isn't it?" 

"No one carries a separate mp3 anymore," was Combeferre's sole input. He bent his head back down over the coffee table to continue his lab report. Next to him, Grantaire grunted in agreement before going back to her sketch. She was using a napkin this time.  

"I do!" Cosette entered with perfect timing, as always. "Why?" 

Courfeyrac looked at her like all his Christmases had come at once. "Seriously? I could kiss you!" He missed the sharp glare Marius sent his way at that, but he didn't need to see it to know it was happening. The man could be a little too overprotective of his girlfriend. 

Cosette just laughed as she pulled her headphones out, handing it over. "I tend to live in playlists. What do you need it for anyway?" 

She greeted the others, settling into one of the large sofas in the area the group always accommodated. She chose a spot close to a plug socket for her laptop charger, and next to Marius, who was shaking his head at Courfeyrac as he danced back into the room. 

"This place is too quiet without background music!" He exclaimed, still dancing to the Bruno Mars track which had come up first on shuffle. "And it appears Cosette has some good tunes," he continued, making his way around the sofa to hug her from behind where she sat, "Superstar. Why do you even have a separate iPod, anyway? I thought everyone just used their phone's now." 

"Music student," Cosette's fall-back phrase. "Besides, my phone wouldn't fit a quarter of my music on it." 

"How much do you even have?" Jehan looked up from where he was writing. He'd paused long ago, clearly not sure where to take what story or poem he was writing next, and decided to join in the conversation around him rather than carry on in futile. 

Cosette paused in answer, turning to the macbook on her lap and bringing up her iTunes in answer. "Just a second, I'll tell you. Erm.. 33.1 days. 67.45 GB," she looked up to some rather shocked expressions. "W-what?" 

"Jesus." 

"Why?" 

"How?" 

"There's no way you've actually listened to everything on that." 

Someone even let out a whistle. 

Courfeyrac took over control of Cosette's laptop from over her shoulder as she sat and blushed at the comments, Marius looking over at the screen from where he was sat too. He scrolled through the tracks quickly. "Everything has a play. Impressive." 

"Didn't you only get that laptop like 3 months ago?" Eponine piped up. 

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. "Even more impressive." 

"Music student." 

Enjolras said it at the same time as Cosette this time, and she looked over at her old friend, smiling at her in thanks. The blonde in question returned the gesture with a slight nod. "It does rather come with the territory. Like medical notes for you guys," she nodded at Joly and Combeferre. "And books for Jehan. Its part of her trade, she needs it." 

As per usual, everyone had stopped to look at Enjolras as she spoke. She held herself in a way which just demanded attention, even if she wasn't always aware of it, and Cosette was thankful for this as she preferred not to be the centre of everyone's focus. She mouthed a 'thanks, babe' as everyone went back to what they were doing before, and Enjolras smiled genuinely in return this time. 

Mostly up to date tracks had been playing in the background, and as Courfeyrac had never really settled down again, different people kept popping up to dance along with him. This was how it usually was in their favourite pub. The group commandeering the upper room to come and go as they pleased; at least one of them could usually be found here at The Musain, studying, or even napping on one of the sofas. It was in a central location in the city, just around the corner from Victoria Station. Not too close in particular to where any one of them lived, but easy enough to get to from any of their respective halls, flats or universities. Sometimes the room would be silent, if it was exam season or a lot of them had deadlines, but every once in a while they had a night where no one was allowed to bring their work. Where the intention was to chill and just relax, and possibly drink enough for the chants to start. 

When someone called 'you're going home in a fucking ambulance', you knew the night had been good. Except when it was angled towards Grantaire, but no one ever said it towards Grantaire. There were some things that were off limits. 

Times like now were the most common, lazy Sunday afternoons with most of the group completing assignments, or doing their readings for the coming week. Everyone just enjoying each other's company, and eating a lot of bar snacks. Bossuet alone had order four loads of chips so far that afternoon. 

Combeferre looked around the room as he spoke with Enjolras and Eponine, noticing a suitcase by the door in his musings. Blue and green and floral - it was either Cosette's or Jehan's, and as John has arrived with him.. "Did you go home this weekend, then, Cosette?" He called as he made his way over to where she and Marius were sat. 

She looked up at him with a smile, and Combeferre noticed Marius' nod as he got up to go to the bar, letting him claim the spot he'd just left. 

"Yeah, hadn't seen Pops in a couple of weeks, and its not too far," she shrugged. It was actually the longest she'd been away from her father so far, having previously been going home every single weekend. He lived in the outer suburbs of London, and Cosette took advantage of it not taking so long to get back, "How've you been? Did I miss anything fun?" 

"Knee deep in revision right now. No essays this term, but it makes the exams that much more important... You didn't miss much, nothing worth commenting on, at least."

He noted how she looked up as a new track sounded, noting it as a Blink-182 track from the 90s and raising an eyebrow at her. "Old song. Good choice. Are you ok?" 

Cosette was frowning at him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, I just - I can't work to which playlist Courfeyrac chose. Its irritating me a little." 

She turned back to her screen, where she had been looking through her playlists strategically to find the one they were listening to. Combeferre found himself leaning over her shoulder, and was astounded by the list she was going through. There must have been 30 or more playlists on her iTunes, a few were titled 'best of', but most of them just appeared to be random letters to him. He was sure they meant something to her. One intrigued him most of all, though. One titled simply 'this', in square brackets so it was at the top of the list. He decided to ask her about it. 

"Those are my songs of the moment," she answered, showing him the playlist in question. "The tracks change regularly, but there are always 50 of them," she shrugged. "I don't know, I just go through stages with songs. This is the playlist I know I won't want to skip anything on." 

Telephone started in the background, and Bahorel was up like a shot because Lady Gaga. Within no time there was a group dancing in the middle of the room: Bahorel and Feuilly in the centre sliding into a pre-prepared dance routine, which Courfeyrac had his phone out to record in less than two seconds. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle, and even Cosette had given up searching through her iTunes. 

She used Combeferre as an anchor to stand up so she could move and get a better look, holding out her hand to help him up so he could see too. 

"Why don't you just ask Courfeyrac which one he selected, though?" 

"Because I should know!" 

Did she actually just pout? Combeferre couldn't help but chuckle a little. 

"What are you laughing about?" Enjolras asked as she came to stand next to them, wanting to see the finale of the routine from a better view point. The boys hadn't managed to do it without falling over once yet...

"Cosette is pissed she can't work out what playlist Courfeyrac picked," Combeferre explained as the song came to an end and Feuilly once again skidded to the floor, taking Bahoral with her. They tumbled into Joly, who promptly claimed to have broken his arm in the collision. Amongst the laughter Combeferre went over to inspect the appendage. As the only other student of medicine, his was the only word Joly would believe. 

He just laughed as he looked it over, "You barely even have a bruise! Get up. You'll be fine." 

"No, I think I also banged my head. Check. I'm hearing things, I swear!" 

"What?" 

"I can hear STEPS!" 

And that was when everyone finally stopped long enough to pay attention to the next song which had started. 5, 6, 7, 8. Everyone turned to look at Cosette, whose cheeks were tinged in pink, having finally realised no playlist had been picked, and her entire iTunes library was on shuffle. Her gaze was defiant. "Shut up. This song is brilliant. You all love it, I bet most of you even still remember the dance routine." 

She marched over to Eponine to prove her point, pushing the laughing Courfeyrac solidly as she passed him. "Next time pick a playlist, jackass." 

"No way! Is the rest of your music library like this too?" 

Enjolras had now been dragged in by her old friends, taking Feuilly with her, who in turn grabbed Jehan. All of them quickly remembering the dance routine from their youth. "Of course it's not. Its also full of orchestral pieces, choral stuff, blues, metal, jazz, and pretty much any genre from any era." 

Courfeyrac had wasted no time in getting his phone back out to record the group. "But why!?" He called over the recording. 

Almost as one, the group before him stopped, turning to face him, before calling out. "MUSIC STUDENT!" 

He would always be glad to have captured that moment on film. 

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