Bahorel and R may or may not have bought a minibus for Les Amis while they were drunk and Enj is pissed because MORE IMPORTANT THIMGS TO WORRY ABOUT
It’s not just any minibus. It’s one of those 70s hippie-period minibus, with big flowers on it, gaudy colours, bead curtains everywhere, cushions, the whole package.
Needless to say, Jehan fell in love with it the moment they set eye on that beauty. Enjolras, on the other hand, was less than convinced.
“A minibus? You bought a MINIBUS?”
“Well we acquired a minibus.”
“What does that-No. You know what, I don’t even want to know.”
Bahorel vaguely defended the idea of using it for rally purposes, while Grantaire mainly talked about using it as a hangout spot. Technically, the minibus is Bahorel and Grantaire’s possession, Enjolras has nothing to say about it. He just dislikes impulsive purchases.
That is until they used it to go to a music festival, a few weeks later. Enjolras found Grantaire at the back of the minibus after a concert, lazily brushing the chords of his guitar.
“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be with the others.”
“Needed some time alone. You?”
“I get a bit overwhelmed when it’s too loud for too long.”
Grantaire quirked an eyebrow.
“You lead protests. You’re the one wih the megaphone. Doesn’t that count as too loud for too long?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
Enjolras sat next to Grantaire on the cushions. The fairylights set up by Jehan and Cosette made stars in Grantaire’s eyes. Though his butt was comfortable, Enjolras couldn’t quite forget the bite of the metal frame against his back.
“What are you playing?”
“Wonderwall,” Grantaire replied without missing a bit.
Enjolras rolled his eyes.
“Come on, really. What are you playing?”
“Nothing. Nothing good. Something I’ve tried to piece together for a while, but it always sounds off.”
Enjolras smiled encouragingly. “If you play it to me, I could tell you if it’s off or not.”
One thing leading to another, they ended up talking all night and fell asleep at the back of the minibus. They were woken up a few hours later by whistles and snickers, when Bahorel opened the truck of the minibus. They were snuggled against each other, limbs tangled.
Enjolras never spoke ill of the minibus ever again.