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Everyone is in the house, gathered in the living room. Jehan has sat them all down, and she's doing her best to look tall and intimidating. It's hard to take her seriously, however, because she's wearing floral print tights, rosy colors patterned on black, and floral print shoes, yellow patterned on blue. She has a crotched dress on, or at least, Courfeyrac thinks it's a dress, but Jehan is so slight it might just be a sweater that's too big, and her hair is festooned like she's at a renaissance fair. It's a little much, even for her, and Jehan looks down at herself and wails.
"This is a disaster," she says, and starts pulling the ribbons out of her hair, even as she talks to the rest of the girls.
"Montparnasse is coming at seven," She says. "That means seven pm, on the dot. Not 6:30, Combeferre," She throws a pointed look at the bespectacled girl on the couch, who takes punctuality a little too seriously. "And not 7:15," a look at Bahorel, "7:30," one at Courfeyrac, "or 9:00," she says, glaring darkly at Grantaire, who shifts.
"Don't look at me!" Grantaire exclaims. "I've offered to cook dinner," she says, hoping to appease Jehan. Grantaire's actually a pretty fair cook. She knows her way around Italian food- or at least, making wine sauces.
"Grantaire, it's five already, get started then!" Jehan abandons the ribbons to push Grantaire into the kitchen, and Grantaire just laughs and lets herself be manhandled.
Once Jehan comes out, after muttering darkly at the abundance of bottles of wine lining the counter, Courfeyrac hops up.
"It's okay," Courfeyrac soothes, putting her hands on Jehan's shoulders. "It'll be fine. Let's get you out of those clothes and into something that I don't think will grow roots right here in the living room."
Courfeyrac takes Jehan upstairs, not before throwing a look at everyone else that says that this is a bad idea, and tonight will be a disaster.
Joly has been cleaning all day, and Bahorel's been at the gym, working out all excess frustration so she'll be as mellow as possible when Montparnasse gets here. There's really not much to do but wait. Enjolras goes into the kitchen to bother Grantaire, and everyone else just waits for the oncoming storm.
Jehan comes back down later with Courfeyrac, and this time she's much more understated. She has a lace ribbon in her hair, and she's wearing a green velvet dress and cream tights, with just a faint floral pattern visible. She looks sweet, like a wood nymph. Courfeyrac wants to talk to her upstairs, but Jehan is already so nervous that it is all Courfeyrac can do just to calm her down.
When they get downstairs, Joly and Bossuet pull Jehan aside and sit her down, and Joly looks like she's getting into another one of her speeches about disease prevention (poor girl all but has an apoplexy every time they throw a party) with someone new coming into the house.
Courfeyrac throws herself onto the couch and silently frets. She doesn't know what to think about this whole thing. She knows Montparnasse by reputation alone, and it's not exactly a glowing recommendation. She's not sure what's gonna happen tonight. She wants Montparnasse to be late, just so that she can put a black mark on the tally she's keeping in her head. But she wants her to be on time too, so that Jehan doesn't get upset. She wants Montparnasse to surprise them all, to be kind and to make Jehan happy. But she also wants her to be rude and unsociable, so she can be justified in throwing her out, so she can hold Jehan and tell her that it's not her fault, that Montparnasse is no good and she'll find someone else.
She's sickening herself, hates that she can't just go into this unbiased. She hates that she loves Jehan so much that she wants to keep her all to herself. Romance is all well and good when it's in the poems that Jehan writes, but not when it's a real thing, and there's a real possibility of Jehan getting hurt.
The clocks ticks down until it's 6:30, then 6:45. There's loud laughter and singing coming from the kitchen, and Jehan just hopes that dinner will be ready when Montparnasse gets here. She hopes that Montparnasse will get here at all, that she won't just decide Jehan's crazy friends are too much and she's not worth the effort.
It's 6:58 when there's a knock at the door, and every single one of them push past each other to try and answer it first. Enjolras almost gets there, but Jehan unapologetically trips her so she stumbles, and it's Jehan who opens the door, looking breathless.
It's the first time anyone of them but Jehan are getting a good look at her, and they take their time. Montparnasse looks cool and aloof in a leather jacket. She's wearing jeans that fit her like a second skin, and floral boots with hefty-looking gold spikes. The spikes are mirrored in the studs that go down her ears, and she has one of those rings that stretch across each finger. It's a cross, scratched and tarnished. She slips off her jacket, revealing stark shoulders underneath a sleek gray top. She looks tough, but expensive.
She runs a hand through her hair and they notice her undercut, almost hidden before under waves of inky hair. Her lips are a dark red slash in her face.
Montparnasse doesn't even look at them at first, just curves a hand over Jehan's jaw and kisses her in greeting. Jehan melts in her arms and when Montparnasse pulls away, Jehan's nerves are all but forgotten.
"Hey," she says, and her voice sounds like silk. Jehan trips over herself and rushes to introduce the eight other girls that are crowded into what Combeferre likes to call the foyer.
She lists off their names one by one, and Joly doesn't shake her hand because she's worried about germs, and Jehan did explain Joly's eccentricities to Montparnasse, but Jehan still thinks it's rude. Feuilly claps Montparnasse on the back in friendly greeting, because as it turns out they work together.
Enjolras greets her stiffly and formally, saying, "Welcome to Musain House," and Courfeyrac just crosses her arm over her chest and glares, not even pretending to be kind.
Montparnasse takes it all in stride, her posture never faltering, and says, "I'm Montparnasse."
"Is there a first name that goes along with that?" Courfeyrac asks archly, and when Montparnasse doesn't answer, she adds, "Last name?"
Jehan wants to hit Courfeyrac but she stops herself, and Montparnasse just shakes her head slowly. "Not really," she answers.
Jehan drags Montparnasse into the dining room, where Grantaire has thankfully put out all the food. Montparnasse misses Courfeyrac's mutter of, "well isn't that comforting," but Jehan doesn't and it makes the nervous smile drop from her face.
They all sit down, and it's awkward. Everyone has their places around the table, and they never deviate. Enjolras sits at the head and Grantaire sits to the left of her. Combeferre sits at the right, followed by Courfeyrac. Then it's Jehan and Bahorel, with Bossuet, Joly, and Feuilly across from them. When Merci joined, she took the other end of the table by default. It's a long table, and it's not hard to put in an extra place setting, but it throws them off.
Montparnasse takes the seat that Bahorel normally would have taken without a second thought, and for a second, everyone freezes. Montparnasse sitting next to Bahorel isn't the best idea. But then Merci just slides her place setting over next to Feuilly, and it all makes sense again, who takes Bahorel's seat so that Bahorel ends up next to Merci. Jehan breathes a sigh of relief; she's already exhausted.
"Looks great," Montparnasse offers, and Jehan squeezes her hand under the table gratefully.
"There's a lot of wine in it," Grantaire says in response, and raises her glass to Montparnasse.
"Just how I like it," Montparnasse winks, and it seems like everything is going to be okay.
There's a little stilted conversation, but then Bossuet brings up something that happened last week and everyone bursts into laughter and starts talking over each other. Everyone except Montparnasse, of course. It's one of those "you had to be there" stories, and Jehan is struck by how self-involved their group is.
She's glad that it's not silent, but she's upset that nobody is making an effort to include Montparnasse. Enjolras seems to notice, though, and Jehan is relieved. This is, of course, until Enjolras actually starts talking.
"So, Montparnasse," Enjolras's voice is clear and cuts through the raucous atmosphere.
"Just call me Parnasse," She answers, and it's the most personal thing she's said all night.
"What do you do?" Enjolras asks, and Jehan shoots her a dirty look, but it goes ignored.
"Excuse me?" Montparnasse tilts her head to the side, like she wants Enjolras to clarify, but her brows are raised and it's almost a challenge.
"Do you study? Where do you go to school?" Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac adds, "Do you go to school?"
It's so rude and Jehan kicks Courfeyrac under the table, but again, she's ignored.
"I'm at trade school," Montparnasse answers, setting down her glass, like she knows she's going to be interviewed. "To be a mechanic."
There's not a touch of shame or embarrassment in her face, and Jehan loves her all the more for it. She's seen Montparnasse work on cars, her hair braided back tightly, dressed in a tank top, black streak of engine dust on her cheek. Montparnasse loves it, loves getting her hands dirty and working until the car is running smooth again under her fingertips.
"How interesting," Combeferre says flatly, and Jehan, who has never had a violent urge in her life, wants to punch her.
"And you work with Feuilly? As a waitress?" Enjolras doesn't disguise the doubt in her voice.
"No, actually." And Montparnasse leans back and crosses her arms. "I'm the bouncer. And Feuilly is technically more of a hostess."
They all look at her, take in her attitude and the lean muscles in her arms and believe what she's saying without a second thought.
"She's the best bouncer we've had in a long time," Feuilly offers. "The pervert count has gone way down ever since she was hired."
Enjolras looks like she wants to push further, but Courfeyrac interrupts.
"Must be a lot of unsavory characters hanging around there," Courfeyrac says like she's implying Montparnasse is one of them.
"Yeah," Montparnasse answers coolly. "There can be. Drug dealers and the like. But not since I started working there." She grins wickedly, but Courfeyrac is not impressed.
"How sweet, Parnasse," She mocks. "You know Jehan here is a poet. Sweet and innocent and romantic. Are you going to protect her from all the bad boys and girls?"
Montparnasse straights and narrows her eyes. "That's the plan, Cheri."
"Then don't you think you should back off?" Courfeyrac doesn't miss a beat, and Montparnasse idly toys with the stem of her wineglass.
"I think Jehan is old enough to make her own decisions," Montparnasse says, and her voice is soft, but there is a warning there.
Courfeyrac opens to mouth to speak again but there is a clatter of silverware, and everyone jumps and looks at Jehan, who is holding her fork tightly with trembling fingers.
"If you say one more word, I swear to god I will stab you," Jehan says quietly, and the thought of it alone is so ridiculous that Courfeyrac can't help the laugh that comes out of her. It's the wrong thing to do.
"Okay, I won't, but I'd really like to," Jehan amends, but she's no less upset. "And now I'm going to leave, because I'm this close to losing my temper and I really don't want to do that." She stands up, pushing her chair back, and nods at Grantaire.
"Dinner was lovely, thank you for cooking," Jehan says, and her voice is quiet but not even, and they can tell she's struggling to keep calm. Tears, however, are more likely to come forth than anger.
WIthout another word, Jehan turns on her heel and walks up the stairs. They all expect to hear a door slam, but Jehan can't even do that, just shuts it quietly behind her and lets out a small sob.
They are silent around the table.
"Strike one," Courfeyrac says, but then she startles because Montparnasse stands suddenly.
Montparnasse leans over Courfeyrac and smiles, satisfied, at the way Courfeyrac leans back, intimidated.
"This," She says, "Was not my fault."
Courfeyrac swallows hard and Montparnasse moves to follow Jehan.
"I don't know you guys," She says before leaving. "And you don't know me. I don't owe you an explanation, or justification. Personally, I couldn't care less what any of you think of me. But Jehan is crying upstairs right now, and that is your fault. I know you've all probably prepared your 'if you hurt her, I will kill you,' speeches, but just know one thing.
"The feeling is mutual. And unlike the rest of you, I probably actually would kill you."
With that, Montparnasse casually knocks back the rest of her wine and walks up the stairs.
They all scatter pretty quickly after that. Nobody really knows what to say, or what do to. The only one who remains at the table is Courfeyrac, who stubbornly stabs at her plate.
Combeferre sits by her for a moment, but when Courfeyrac shows no sign of being sociable, she too leaves, and Courfeyrac is alone.
Upstairs, Montparnasse opens the door to Jehan's room gingerly. Jehan is on the bed, and she looks miserable, but miraculously her face is dry. She's kicked off her shoes and taken the ribbon out of her hair. It's on the floor by the door, and Montparnasse picks it up, frowning.
She comes to sit next to Jehan, whose bottom lip wobbles precariously.
"I'm sorry about them," She says, but Montparnasse shushes her. Her eyes are incredibly gentle, and she runs her fingers through Jehan's hair, getting out the tangles before braiding the ribbon back in.
"I like it," she says, referring to the ribbon, and Jehan blushes. "Don't worry about it. I've pulled the same shit when my little sister brought home her first boyfriend. And I can't really blame them," Montparnasse shrugs. "I'm not exactly a nice person. I have a reputation, and it's not for nothing."
"You are nice," Jehan insists stubbornly, and Montparnasse chuckles.
"No I'm not," But she kisses Jehan sweetly, and maybe she really is.
Jehan pulls away and rests her head against Montparnasse's.
"Do you wanna have really loud sex and make them all really uncomfortable?" She whispers, grinning deviously.
"I'd like nothing better," Montparnasse whispers back, and pushes Jehan down onto the bed.
Feuilly does not come back to their room that night, and Jehan feels a little bad because Feuilly had been the only kind one. But then Montparnasse takes off her shirt (she's not wearing a bra) and Jehan sees the glint of metal that adorns each nipple, and she's not that sorry anymore.
When Courfeyrac comes downstairs the next morning, Jehan is already there. She's sitting at the table, oversized cable knit sweater hanging so low an entire shoulder is exposed. She has a mug of tea at her elbow, and she's drizzling lavender honey into a bowl of oatmeal.
Jehan glances up, narrows her eyes, and looks back down at her breakfast. There are sticks of dried lavender in the jar of honey, and she pulls one out and puts in it her oatmeal.
"Where's Montparnasse?" Courfeyrac asks, because it's clear Jehan isn't going to talk to her first.
"She's still asleep," Jehan still won't look at Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac can see that there are bags underneath Jehan's eyes. "We really… exerted ourselves last night."
Courfeyrac winces. She knows. Jehan and Montparnasse had fucked, long and loud, so that everyone in the whole house would hear them. It was a punishment for being such assholes the night before, and Courfeyrac knows they deserved it. And to be honest, she didn't think Jehan had it in her. She's grudgingly impressed.
"Look," Courfeyrac starts, but Jehan interrupts her.
"No," She says. "You look."
Courfeyrac is stunned into silence, and Jehan goes on.
"We're best friends, aren't we?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "We support each other no matter what. And it's because we're best friends, because I trust your judgement, that I haven't said shit about the way you've been stringing along Combeferre and Merci for months." There are spots of color on Jehan's cheeks, and she's breathing heavily. This is out of character for her, but she's pissed, and she has every right to be, so Courfeyrac keeps her mouth shut.
"Combeferre could love you, and I shouldn't even be telling you that because you don't deserve to know, but you should have had the decency and respect to not fuck around with Merci right under her nose. Don't act like you don't know that whatever you two had meant something to her. Combeferre doesn't do casual, and she never goes into anything she isn't sure of. She broke all her rules for you, and you disappointed her."
Courfeyrac feels uncomfortable, like she's too hot, and this is not what she thought Jehan was going to say.
"I don't understand why you're telling me this," Courfeyrac tries to say coolly, but her voice shakes. She wants to say, why are you meddling in my love life. She wants to say, it's none of your business. But she lost that right when she decided she didn't like Montparnasse, when she decided that she got a say in who Jehan dated.
"Because you should trust me like I was trusting you. Because I broke all my rules for Montparnasse, but she broke hers for me too. Because she hasn't disappointed me yet. And that's more than I can say for you."
Courfeyrac feels like she's been punched.
The rest of the girls are starting to come downstairs, woken by the commotion. Jehan has an audience now, and she will play to it.
"Almost every single one of you, save Grantaire, which is ridiculous because she always causes the most trouble, disappointed me last night." Jehan says.
Grantaire smirks and moves to get herself coffee, but Jehan snaps at her.
"Don't look so self-satisfied, you were only in such a good mood because you wanted to see a fight, and because you're just as much trouble as Montparnasse is. You think if I can love her, then Enjolras can love you."
Grantaire flinches and she sits down, and Enjolras resolutely does not look at anyone. Jehan knows she's being harsh, but now that the words are coming out, she can't stop them. She's kind and sweet and yes, a little innocent, but she's not blind. She sees everything that goes on in the house, because nobody ever expects judgement from her. Nobody tries to hide from her. But now she will dole out judgement in turn. She feels a little guilty, but justified all the same.
"Bahorel, you were an asshole even though Montparnasse was trying to be polite. You never wanted me to go out with her in the first place. Joly, before Montparnasse even got here you sat me down and gave me the most presumptuous lecture I have ever heard about being careful 'with someone like her.' And Bossuet, you should have stopped her."
Bossuet looks chagrined, and Joly looks ashamed. Bahorel won't meet her eyes, and Jehan is not done with them yet.
"And Enjolras, I really thought you were going to give her a chance," Jehan says, betrayed. "But instead you grilled her on everything that wasn't important, just so you could try and prove she wasn't good enough for me, like if she doesn't graduate summa cum laude from an established university then she can't love me as much."
Enjolras's fists tighten, and Jehan knows it's because Enjolras hates being in the wrong, hates being proved fallible, but also hates letting anyone down.
"Merci, you couldn't even put your damn phone away and stop texting Cosme- who is gay and dating Élie- for one second to even say hello, even though you knew tonight was important to me. And Combeferre, even you were cold to her. In fact," Jehan says, gesticulating wildly to the only girl not mentioned yet, "the only one here who was even halfway decent here was Feuilly!
"And that's because she works with her, and she knows her. Which only proves that if any of you had actually given Montparnasse a chance to be friendly, you would have liked her too." Jehan says that last part bitterly. Feuilly, to her credit, doesn't look proud or try to distinguish herself from the rest of the girls. She just stands there quietly, because yeah, she knows Montparnasse. Neither of them come from money, both pull too many shifts, hours they don't have, trying to make money to pay for their school and to send to their families.
Jehan hates being mad. It's her least favorite emotion. She puts so much trust and love into her friends and to have them treat her like a naive child, like someone who isn't grown and can make her own decisions is infuriating. And worst, they'd made Montparnasse feel unwelcome, feel like she didn't have a place there.
But Jehan loves Montparnasse. She doesn't want to have to choose between her and her friends. And she won't, but she'll have to keep them separate and resent them all the more for it.
"I had something really nice," Jehan's voice is small. "And you guys had to ruin it."
Before anyone can say anything, there is one more voice.
"Does that mean you're breaking up with me?" Montparnasse is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and none of them know how long she's been there. She's in a ratty black tank top and a pair of Jehan's sleeping shorts: pale pink and printed with obnoxiously cute animals. The juxtaposition would be laughable if the tension wasn't so palpable. And if Montparnasse didn't look so stunned.
And all of a sudden they see it. Montparnasse is afraid, and she's not making an effort to hide it. They don't understand that Jehan is one of the few good things in Montparnasse's life right now, and that she wouldn't jeopardize it for the world.
Jehan can't help it anymore. She's furious and she's upset that she's furious, and now Montparnasse is upset too. She starts to cry.
"No, you idiot," she says, and her shoulders are shaking. "I'm not breaking up with anyone, not you and not them." She hides her face in her hands and Montparnasse pushes past them, eight other girls crowded into a kitchen that can't hold them all, and draws Jehan into her arms.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs, and there's a silver chain around her neck. It's a delicate thing, long and thin, and on the end is a small chunk of raw rose quartz. It's a necklace that Jehan's had as long as they've known her, and Montparnasse is wearing it now, Montparnasse slept in it, like she never takes it off, and they realize they've all been fucking idiots.
They're ashamed, every last one of them, even Feuilly, because though she isn't the cause of the tears, nobody likes to see Jehan cry. Montparnasse is stroking Jehan's hair gently, but she looks up at all of them and glares daggers. There's still a little bit of eyeliner smudged under her eyes from the night before and she would look like a witch out of some modern, hipster fairy tale if it weren't for Jehan's ridiculous shorts.
Feuilly herds everyone out into the other room and Montparnasse shoots her a grateful look, before she goes back to murmuring comforting words to Jehan that none of them can hear.
They all collapse in the living room. Grantaire and Enjolras won't look each other; Enjolras is standing by the window and Grantaire is sitting at the base of one of the armchairs, arms folded over her knees and head down. Merci is sitting in the chair above her, and her phone is in her hands but she's mercifully not looking at it. Combeferre is at one end of the couch, as far from Merci as she can get, and Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel are all squished into the middle. At the other end is Feuilly, who wants to say something but doesn't know what.
Courfeyrac is the only one not still. She's pacing in front of the couch, muttering to herself.
"I should go in there," She says, and Combeferre sighs.
"No, you really shouldn't." She says, and Courfeyrac turns around to look at her.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't you think you've done enough?" Combeferre asks, and the fight leaves Courfeyrac. "You upset her most of all. You were the one she was really worried about, and you did the exact opposite of what you should have done."
It's hard hearing that from Combeferre. She didn't care when Montparnasse said it. And it's all too easy to lie to herself and say that Jehan is emotionally comprised. But when Combeferre says it, it's like that makes it real. Courfeyrac can't help but glance at Merci, but Merci is still staring off into the distance.
Courfeyrac slumps into the chair by Combeferre and lays down so that her head is on the armrest of the couch. Combeferre takes the hint and starts to pet Courfeyrac's head.
"I fucked up, didn't I?" Courfeyrac asks.
"Yeah," Combeferre says. "But lucky for you, Jehan is a lot more forgiving than any of us."
As if on cue, Jehan enters from the kitchen. Her hand is clasped tightly in Montparnasse's, and Courfeyrac does her best not to narrow her eyes at it.
"Thanks for dinner, but I should probably head out," Montparnasse says, even though it's clear Jehan doesn't want her to go.
"No," Courfeyrac says, surprising all of them, standing up. "Look, we owe you an apology. Or at least, I know I do."
Montparnasse's lips quirk up in a smile, and Jehan squeezes her hand hurriedly, as if begging her not to say anything.
"I was a bitch last night, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged so quickly. I should have given you a chance." Courfeyrac holds her hand out in apology.
"I hope you can forgive me, Montparnasse."
Montparnasse takes it, and nods.
"Just Parnasse is fine," and it's a truce, albeit a shaky one.
Feuilly suggests they watch a movie, so they do, all squished on not enough furniture. Courfeyrac takes her place on Jehan's right, and Jehan mouths a 'thank you.' Courfeyrac just shrugs and smiles.
By the end of the movie, Enjolras and Grantaire are sitting together again, though still not looking at one another, and Courfeyrac has her head on Combeferre's shoulder. Courfeyrac looks over at Jehan only to see her asleep, curled into Montparnasse's side. Montparnasse is looking at Jehan impossibly fondly, though she looks away when she catches Courfeyrac watching, but their hands remain entwined. Courfeyrac figures that's good enough for now.