Chapter Text
December 27, 2012
Enjolras pulled up the familiar driveway, lined in snow-capped pine trees with a content sigh. He was home. Well, not technically speaking. And yet, over the years, he had spent so much time at his Uncle Valjean’s house, it felt more like home than Enjolras’s childhood house ever had.
Enjolras loved it for many reasons. He loved it for how isolated it was. Located in the Alps right on a small lake, it was at least a twenty minute drive to get to the closest small town. Though Enjolras would never admit it to his friends, sometimes between school and activism and just life he felt overwhelmed. It felt good to retreat to a practically untouched pocket of the world and breathe.
The house itself was beautiful. Even Enjolras, who had little appreciation for art or architecture, could admire the large, wooden house that Valjean had built himself as a labor of love. It was open and airy but simultaneously cozy.
Most of all, Enjolras loved the occupants of the house: his uncle, and his cousin Cosette. Enjolras’s own parents had divorced when he was young, and he had spent breaks from boarding school as a pawn in their insane power games. Then Valjean invited him to stay, and soon Enjolras spent most of his vacations at the lake house. Now, twenty-one year old Enjolras had just escaped from his mother’s house after a debacle of a Christmas dinner to spend the new year with his preferred family.
“Enjolras! I’m so glad you’re here.”
Cosette ran out of the house, and launched herself at Enjolras, as if she hadn’t seen him two weeks ago at university. Enjolras nearly fell over from the force of her hug. He kissed her forehead.
“Hi, Cosette.”
She smiled up at him. “Let’s get you inside, it’s freezing. Papa’s already started to make us some hot cocoa.”
Cosette insisted on helping him carry in his things, even though he hadn’t brought much- a backpack and a duffle bag. They hurried in from the cold as fast as they could while avoiding slipping on ice.
“There he is,” Valjean said, beaming as he hugged his nephew. It was less forceful than Cosette’s, but just as sincere. “How was your trip?”
“The roads weren’t as bad as I thought they would be,” Enjolras barely had time to accept a steaming mug of cocoa before Cosette was tugging at his arm.
“Walk and talk,” she commanded.
Enjolras followed her into the living room, taking care not to spill.
“What the-”
The living room looked vaguely like a Bed Bath and Beyond. The couches were buried underneath piles of folded sheets, blankets and comforters. Dozens of pillows were balanced precariously on the coffee table, and towels had been shoved onto the loveseat. One of the corners was covered with tiny bags. Upon inspection, Enjolras saw they were each filled with hotel-sized toiletries and toothbrushes. He wanted to ask if Cosette had robbed a home goods store, but they didn’t joke about theft in the Valjean house. Not since an overblown incident in his uncle’s youth that they didn’t talk about. Ever. So instead Enjolras settled on:
“Did a bed and breakfast explode in your living room?”
“Your friends are arriving tomorrow and I have to set up their rooms.”
“Funny how they’re our friends during the school year but now that you’re playing hostess they’re my friends.”
Cosette stuck out her tongue. Valjean always let Enjolras invite friends to stay with them. Cosette technically was allowed to as well, but since she had been home schooled, it was rather difficult. She had been quickly adopted by Enjolras’s friends during their visits, and when she arrived as a somewhat shy freshman at their university that fall, she had the benefit of already being friends with a bunch of upperclassmen. But she seemed to be conveniently forgetting that fact in the face of her most difficult hosting challenge yet. She had never had to deal with this many college boys in her house at once before.
“You’re hilarious. Now fold towels.”
“So when you said you were glad to see me…”
“I meant I was glad for the cheap labor.”
“Careful,” Enjolras warned. “Or I’ll get the ABC to stage a protest.”
The Amis de l’ABC was a group of student activists Enjolras had formed. The core of the group consisted of Enjolras’s closest friends who would be coming the next day.
“They wouldn’t dare,” Cosette said confidently. “I’m making cupcakes.”
Cosette’s culinary skills were legendary, and while the Amis were incredibly loyal, that loyalty was questionable in the face of baked goods and Enjolras knew it. Satisfied that there would be no revolution staged on her front lawn, Cosette moved on to the most stressful thing: room assignments. Cosette began explaining in great detail her plan and her reasoning. Enjolras nodded, half-listening as he folded towels.
“The only problem with that is I don’t want to put Bahorel and Grantaire in the same one because they might burn the place down-”
“Wait, Grantaire?” Enjolras had only been half listening, but after hearing the name of the Amis’s resident cynic, he was all ears. “He’s coming here?”
Cosette nodded. “Of course. It wouldn’t be the group without him. Maybe I can put one of them with Jehan…”
Enjolras’s jaw clenched. Cosette was right- it wouldn’t be the group without Grantaire. Although he spent a majority of his time antagonizing Enjolras, Enjolras wasn’t too proud to admit that sometimes Grantaire had a point. Hell, he could even admit he occasionally enjoyed their debates. Grantaire belonged at the Café Musain, where the Amis met. He did not, however, belong here, Enjolras’s sanctuary. Especially not after a particularly brutal spat they had right before they left for the holidays.
“Oh come on. You’re not still mad about the protest signs.”
He raised his eyebrows and Cosette rolled her eyes. “Well R is my friend, so he’s staying, and you two are going to try and keep it civil.”
“We’re always civil.”
Cosette let out a very un-Cosetteish snort. “Yeah, okay.”
**********
After a very long night, Cosette was finally satisfied with the state of the house. She, Enjolras and Valjean went to bed around two in the morning and didn’t wake up until the early afternoon. They still had several hours before their guests were set to arrive, so Enjolras and Cosette curled up together on a couch. Cosette was watching a rom com on TV while Enjolras was attempting to read a book. He kept getting distracted by the television and couldn’t stop himself from commenting.
“Why are women in rom coms always so clumsy? That guy would not ask for her number after she spilt searing hot coffee on him.”
“Shush,” Cosette smacked him lightly on his arm. “Go back to your book.”
Valjean paused in the doorway on his way to his study, watching them with a fond smile. They shared a blanket and Cosette was curled up against Enjolras’s side. Enjolras held his book with one hand so his free arm could be wrapped over Cosette’s shoulder. Valjean looked like he was going to say something, but the doorbell rang, and he lost the chance. He hurried to answer the door while Cosette hopped to her feet and smoothed her dress.
They heard their friends before they saw them. Courfeyrac’s excited babbling was followed by Bahorel’s booming laugh. The loudest sound at all came from an unwelcome source: Grantaire, who was in the middle of a highly inappropriate story.
“—after I got out of the car, I ran into the same officer and managed to convince him I was a different person, even though I was still wearing the handcuffs. So then—”
“I’m surprised you’re still talking, Grantaire,” Enjolras said as his friends filtered in. “No one is listening.”
“Enjolras!” Grantaire said, wearing the teasing expression he usually reserved just for the blonde. “I didn’t expect to see you somewhere where you might accidentally have fun.”
Enjolras sighed and set aside his book. “Of course I’m here; I find correcting your cynical bullshit too irresistible to stay away.”
Their friends watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Except for the newcomer Enjolras half recognized, who was cowering behind Courfeyrac. He looked vaguely familiar. He was tall and scrawny, and his face sprinkled with freckles. Cosette also noticed him, and she squeezed his arm reassuringly.
“Don’t worry. For them, this is positively friendly.”
Far from looking reassured, the boy looked like he might pass out. Courfeyrac chuckled and said, “Enjolras, Cosette, this is my new roommate Marius Pontmercy.”
Marius. With a jolt, Enjolras recognized the boy.
“Don’t your grandfather and aunt have near here?” he asked.
Marius turned red at this. “Yes. B-but we’re not speaking at the moment,” he said, sounding pained.
“I think I’ve seen you around town during the holidays,” Cosette said. “And a few times at university too.”
“Y-you did?” Marius looked simultaneously thrilled and terrified.
Cosette nodded, flashing him one of her brilliant smiles. “Come on, I’ll show you guys to your rooms.”
Everyone filtered out, except for Enjolras, who already knew which room was his, and Grantaire, who reading the cover of Enjolras’s book.
“Classes are over, you know,” he said, lazily flicking through it.
Enjolras huffily snatched it back. “This is for fun.”
Grantaire laughed loudly. “Of course you would consider a biography on Robespierre fun.”
“It was a gift from Cosette,” Enjolras said, feeling defensive.
He opened the book to where he had left off, and raised it to his face, hoping Grantaire would take the hint. Of course, he never did, but Enjolras, ever the optimist could hope all the same. He pretended not to notice when Grantaire lowered himself into a chair opposite him. He pretended not to notice Grantaire staring intently at him. He pretended not to notice Grantaire lighting a ciga-wait a moment.
“There’s no smoking in the house,” Enjolras said sternly.
Grantaire snuffed the cigarette out. “Really, Enjy?” his lip curled up as he used the nickname he knew Enjolras detested. “Because you practically have steam coming out of your ears.”
Enjolras jumped to his feet, conscious of his burning cheeks. He opened his mouth to give a vicious retort, but Grantaire smirked the way he always did when he had successfully pushed Enjolras to a certain point. Not wanting to give him a source of any more amusement, Enjolras stormed out, hearing Grantaire’s chuckles behind him.
**********
Enjolras threw himself into his room with a huff. He didn't look surprised to see Combeferre and Courfeyrac already there. They had been friends since they met at boarding school. After their first year, Enjolras convinced Valjean to let them visit for a week. The summer after that, they stayed for a month. And the summer after that…well they were at the house nearly as often as Enjolras. For pretty much every break, after an obligatory pit stop at their own homes, they would come join Enjolras at his.
They had made themselves comfortable. Combeferre was searching the bookshelf for any new additions since his last visit and Courfeyrac was sprawled on Enjolras’s bed, paying with his phone.
“Have a nice conversation with R?” Courfeyrac asked.
“Grantaire is as insufferable as ever,” Enjolras snapped.
They elected not to take the bait.
Combeferre finished looking the bookshelf over. “I want to borrow this,” he gestured to a new collection of essays Enjolras had found at a thrift store.
“I already marked a few sections I thought you’d like,” Enjolras said. Combeferre smiled his thanks.
“Courfeyrac? Are you there?” Marius opened the door.
Enjolras sighed. “Yes, by all means, come in my room without knocking.”
“Okay,” Marius beamed, taking Enjolras’s words at face value. He sat down in a chair. “Courfeyrac, you didn’t tell me Cosette would be here.”
“I thought you knew. I mean you’re so obsessed with-” Courfeyrac suddenly remembered Enjolras was in the room. “The Amis. He’s obsessed with the Amis. He was thinking of joining next semester.”
“Oh, yeah,” Marius said. It was half true; he’d only been living with Courfeyrac for a few weeks, but Courfeyrac talked about the Amis so much that he had convinced Marius to come to their first meeting in the new year.
“Are you interested in activism?” Combeferre said, trying to steer the conversation towards neutral territory. Enjolras could be a little overprotective of Cosette, and Marius probably couldn't handle Enjolras when he was actually pissed off.
“He’s interested in pretty blondes,” Courfeyrac said. Enjolras frowned and Combeferre shot Courfeyrac a warning look. “What? I was obviously talking about Enjolras.”
Combeferre tried a different, more direct tactic. “Marius, why don’t you go to Courfeyrac’s room and you can talk about whatever you need to get off your chest.”
Marius and Enjolras both looked confused. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m plenty fun,” Combeferre said, hiding a smirk. “I was just going to tell Enjolras about the new moth exhibition I went to last week.”
Courfeyrac seized Marius’s arm. “Okay, okay. We’re leaving.”
They didn’t go to Courfeyrac’s room. They instead went to Jehan and Grantaire’s room. Courfeyrac decided that if Marius needed to vent about romance, Jehan was just the person.
The poet in question was perched on his bed, and luckily seemed to be in a good mood. It could go either way. Jehan tended to get swept up in his emotions. Some days he would compose odes to death and darkness and others he would doodle pictures of flowers and sigh about love. Today he seemed in a flowers and sighs kind of mood. Today, he and Marius would get along perfectly.
“Hello,” Jehan smiled. “How are you?”
Courfeyrac decided to cut to the chase. “Pontmercy’s got it bad for Cosette.”
“Oh?”
This was all the invitation Marius needed to launch into a detailed description about Cosette’s beauty, her kindness, and her intelligence. He stopped after a few minutes to draw breath, and turned when they heard someone snort. They hadn’t noticed that the window was open or that Grantaire was sitting on the roof, smoking. But now, with his cigarette done and the promise of entertainment in the form of Marius, Grantaire was crawling back in.
“So you‘re in love?” Grantaire drawled out the last word.
The delighted smile and earnest nod he received as a reply was almost enough to make Grantaire look guilty for teasing Marius. Almost.
“From the moment I saw Cosette, I knew she was the girl of my dreams,” Marius said, completely serious.
“Five minutes ago?” Grantaire deadpanned.
“Oh no. I saw her back in September on the quad.”
“He’s been admiring her from afar ever since,” Courfeyrac said, rolling his eyes.
“Ah. Stalking. The beginning of every healthy relationship.”
“You would know,” Courfeyrac muttered under his breath.
Grantaire shot him a suspicious look. Jehan slung a comforting arm around Marius’s shoulder.
“Ignore them. I think it’s sweet. These two just can’t fess up to their own crushes so they’re taking it out on yours.”
Courfeyrac and Grantaire simultaneously broke out into protest, and Jehan waved away their arguments, unimpressed.
“I don’t do crushes,” Grantaire grumbled. The word didn’t sound dignified- it made him feel like a preteen girl.
Jehan raised his eyebrows, but kindly elected to drop the subject. Marius unfortunately didn’t follow his example.
“I don’t have a crush on Cosette,” he insisted. “I…I think I’m in love with her!”
“I don’t do love either,” Grantaire said. Jehan had to elbow Courfeyrac in the ribs to stop him from laughing.
“Not even for someone perfect like Cosette?”
“Cosette’s a nice enough girl, and she’s good looking and all that. But she just doesn’t do it for me,” Grantaire shrugged.
Marius was too shocked to be offended on his love’s behalf. “She is the most beautiful person on the planet and-”
“No. If we’re going on pure looks, that honor would go to her cousin,” Grantaire said. “If Enjolras didn’t ruin his face all the time with all that scowling.”
“So do you have a crush on him?” Marius was confused.
Jehan and Courfeyrac exchanged a pained look. Oh Marius. Sweet, innocent Marius.
Grantaire laughed. “There is such a thing as objective beauty. I’m just saying, yeah, Cosette is objectively good looking, but Enjolras is on a whole other level. Objectively. Until he opens his mouth. And sure he’s kind of hot when he gets all riled up over his dumb causes. It’s almost enough to make up for his personality.”
“So you’re saying your ideal is someone that looks like Enjolras and gets passionate like Enjolras but isn’t Enjolras?” Jehan said, keeping a remarkably straight face. Courfeyrac had to cover his mouth in a vain attempt to hide his laughter.
“I’m saying Enjolras is a dick. Hot. But a dick nonetheless,” Grantaire said reaching for his flask. There was a knock on the door and he quickly abandoned his efforts.
Cosette poked her head in. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
Marius’s face had turned into a florescent red. Courfeyrac nudged him. The movement brought Cosette’s gaze to the thoroughly overwhelmed boy.
“Are you okay?”
“He’s fine,” Courfeyrac said. “He saw a big bug in his room and came in here to hide.”
“I did not!” Marius squawked.
“Of course not,” Cosette said sympathetically.
“I didn’t!”
Cosette put her hands up in a sign of surrender, but she was smiling knowingly. She backed out of the room. “Five minutes.”
As soon as she shut the door, Marius rounded on Courfeyrac. “I’m not afraid of bugs.”
“No, you’re afraid of pretty girls. That’s probably worse.”
Grantaire smirked. "You know, you guys are assholes sometimes, but its moments like these when I can appreciate that."