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When Combeferre and Enjolras entered Courfeyrac’s apartment (they’d both been given a key ages ago; Courfeyrac gave out keys like he did smiles), they were greeted with a high-pitched, piercing scream. They spared a glance at each other before dropping their bags in the doorway and dashing into the living room, where they found their friends piled onto and around the couch, clutching at one another.
“What’s happened?” Combeferre asked, immediately scanning the room for injured parties, or for the reason the collection of them might be terrified enough to shout. What he found, instead, was a bowlful of popcorn, tipped over, the contents spread across the floor, over laps, in hair, and, in Bossuet’s case, a considerable amount down the back of his shirt, which he was attempting to shake out without dislodging Joly, who was curled into his side, his face buried in Bossuet’s chest.
“Everyone alright?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.
Marius shook his head vehemently, and buried his face into his knees, which were pulled up to his chest. Courfeyrac, who was sitting cross-legged beside him, patted Marius’s back affectionately.
Jehan, on his other side, his back propped up against Courfeyrac’s shoulder, grinned widely at them. “Everything’s fine!” he said.
“We heard a shriek,” Combeferre said.
“Oh, yes, that was me!” Jehan's legs bounced excitedly where they were situated in Bahorel’s lap. “I just got very excited, it’s the best part!”
“Part of?” Enjolras asked.
Jehan pointed at the television, where a grotesque looking girl with long, stringy black hair was crawling, unnaturally, out of a well.
“Can we please unpause it?” Marius asked, his voice muffled behind his knees. “I don’t want to have to look at it anymore.”
“Me neither,” Joly said from the floor, though his eyes were fixed, rather dazedly, on the television. “Bossuet, stop fidgeting, it’s making me anxious.”
“I’m sorry,” Bossuet said, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, where two more pieces of popcorn flew out. “Because of someone, I have popcorn everywhere.”
Bahorel cackled without shame. “Blame Jehan, he’s the one who smacked me in the chest.”
“It’s exciting,” Jehan said again, nearly quivering with delight.
“It’s not exciting,” Marius said, “it’s terrifying. I should’ve never come out of my room.”
“You can go back,” Courfeyrac murmured to him, but Marius shook his head. Courfeyrac smiled at him, kissed his temple, and snuck an arm around his shoulders.
“You do remember we have a meeting at 9:30?” Enjolras asked, and was met with a chorus of “mmmhmms” and hand-waving. He sighed and made his way to the kitchen table, pulled out his computer and brought up the designs for the Food Drive flyers they were planning to distribute around campus that week.
“Thank god someone remembers,” said Feuilly, who was stretched out on his stomach on the floor, sketching, not paying the slightest attention to the movie.
“Spoilsport,” Courfeyrac said, nudging Feuilly in the head with his foot.
Feuilly scowled. “Some of us have work to do.”
“What are you watching?” Combeferre asked, retrieving his bag from the doorway and seating himself at the table with Enjolras.
“The Ring!” Jehan cried and Joly groaned simultaneously.
“The remake or the original Japanese?” Enjolras asked, without looking up from his laptop.
“The remake,” Feuilly mumbled distractedly, shading something with the side of his pencil.
“Hmm,” Enjolras said. “The Japanese is better.”
“Snob!” Courfeyrac cried rather loudly, causing Marius to jump beside him. He ran a hand over Marius’s back in apology.
“I don’t know why we had to watch this movie,” Joly whined. “Why we couldn’t watch anything else, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer, anything.”
“Blood makes Marius squeamish,” Courfeyrac said.
“Well, deadly diseases carried by supernatural video tape make me squeamish,” Joly said. Bossuet ruffled his hair.
“It’s not technically a disease,” Jehan said.
“The girl’s face turned purple!”
“That was from fear!”
“Oh, like that makes it better!” Marius squeaked.
“But the imagery is so wonderful!”
“Is it almost over?” Combeferre asked, looking at his watch. “We, uh, really should get some work done.”
“Please,” Feuilly breathed, shutting his sketchbook and flipping over onto his back.
“Snobs and spoilsports!” Courfeyrac cried. “Get of my house! You’re not allowed!”
“Well you’re in luck,” said a voice from behind them. They all turned to see Grantaire stumble through the doorway, a bottle of alcohol in hand, grinning wildly. “I’ve got some cheap tequila just waiting for a good time.”
Bahorel whooped. “That’s the spirit!” he said, motioning for Grantaire to bring the bottle over.
“Looks like we’ll get nothing done now,” Enjolras mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Grantaire shot him a look that was half annoyance, half hurt, but joined the rest of them, shoving himself between Courfeyrac and Jehan on Courfeyrac’s large couch.
Combeferre put a hand on Enjolras’s back. “We won’t have their attention until the movie’s over. Might as well join them?”
Enjolras looked about to argue, but sighed and closed his laptop, following Combeferre out to the living room where they sat beside Joly and Bossuet, Combeferre resting his back against the couch, Enjolras laying his head in Combeferre’s lap. Combeferre immediately put a hand in Enjolras’s hair, his fingers working through tangles, while Courfeyrac draped his leg over Combeferre’s shoulder. Combeferre glared up at Courfeyrac but didn’t move to dislodge it.
“Are we ready to start again?” Jehan asked excitedly.
“No,” Marius said.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Joly said.
“You’re being very dramatic,” Bossuet said.
“And you’re being very fidgety.”
“I have popcorn everywhere!”
“And I have no regrets,” Bahorel said, taking a swig out of the bottle of tequila and passing it back to Grantaire, who snickered.
“Can everyone just shut up so we can get this over with?” Feuilly said.
Everyone quieted down and settled in, Courfeyrac still holding on to Marius, Grantaire spread out as far as he could be on the packed couch, Bahorel stilling Jehan’s squirming feet with one hand, Joly tucking himself even tighter into Bossuet, Combeferre continuing his absent petting of Enjolras’s hair, and Feuilly, begrudgingly, pulling himself up beside Combeferre so he could watch.
Jehan hit play.