hey so I spontaneously wrote an angsty barricade day courfius fic because I was gonna write something better in advance but i forgot so??? have this
It was curious, Courfeyrac thought, how someone as
perpetually awkward as Marius suddenly found himself at the centre of this rapid
storm of action. All the possibilities of what could pass in the next few
moments narrowed down to a single young man who had the attention of all those
gathered on either side of the barricade.
“Be off with you, or I’ll blow up the barricade!”
It was a tone of voice Courfeyrac had only heard glimpses of before; he was
confident, single minded, and he couldn’t take his eyes off him. It was almost
unbelievable that this was the same bleary-eyed man who had woken in his room a
few hours before the funeral, which seemed as though it might as well have been
a lifetime ago now. A selfish part of him was so incredibly glad to see him, to
know that in the end Marius had chosen them- chosen Courfeyrac- over everything else. He chased that thought away as
best he could, though the alternative was the ache of fearing another of his
friends might be lost in this place.
pLEASE imagine Courf, theatre student, getting the role of Fiyero and asking Grantaire, who has a reasonably good voice, to help him with his songs.
Grantaire putting some green paint on his face and looking at Courf very seriously and goes “ok I’m ready” and Courf can’t focus he’s laughing too hard while R continues to monotone, “Courf why are you laughing this is serious business I need to defy gravity.”
Eight. Enjolras could not help the sarcastic smile on his face. Eight shots would be mortal, if he were any normal man, so he would fall. And then he would get back up before the sun and start again, perhaps this time in a more personal manner and starting with these men here. Combeferre would object, of course, but maybe this night would put enough fire in the scholar’s veins to spur him into action. Civil protests and honest rebellion would only get them so far, it seemed. Maybe the troop behind that bleeding guillotine had something right after all.
The sound of footfalls on the stairs drew his attention away from the guardsmen, and Enjolras could feel the color drain from his face as he recognized the newcomer. Grantaire. No. He had been safe downstairs! Why come here now? Enjolras swallowed hard and watched, frozen, as the drunk stumbled through the soldiers toward him.
Grantaire’s warm fingers entwined with Enjolras’ cold ones, and the guards raised their rifles and took aim. Enjolras made to step in front, his grip tightening as he pulled Grantaire behind him, but gunfire filled his ears before he could move. Five bullets dug into him, deep and hot as fire, and Enjolras had to let himself fall.
Headcanon that les Amis, every year at the beginning of summer, have their Annual Roadtrip Session
During a meeting at the Musain, they pick out a region of France where they’ve rarely been to. Then they split up in groups of three or four, each one in a different car, and each group takes a different way around the region and they wander around it for a week or so, visiting, sightseeing, camping, hiking, meeting locals, and if they’re lucky they’ll come across one of the other groups from les Amis. At the end of the week they all go back in Paris and everyone meet up and they tell each other all about their trips (each group has to keep a log book for the memories and to share their experiences with the others). By the end of this week, members of one group are bound to be pretty close with eachother, therefore the groups are totally picked at random so that those who don’t know each other that well can get a chance to, and every year they mix up the groups
so you’d end up with the most improbable pairings like Enjolras - Bahorel - Musichetta - Marius or Feuilly - Eponine - Combeferre - Cosette
Some like Courf or R or Bossuet would be okay with anyone really but others would feel a bit awkward at first like Marius or Ferre and it would lead to hilarious situations (well, with hindsight) until something happens that would bring everyone in the group closer to each other
things to consider:
Courf would totally end up chatting with… anyone really, any stranger he meets, and have the most improbable encounters. He would also be the one dragging the others to try the most bizarre new things (“GUYS YES OF COURSE WE NEED TO EAT FROGS AND SNAILS ARE WE FRENCH OR WHAT”)
Combeferre would take notes on local flora and fauna and spend hours in ancient bookstores and just quietly enjoy everything, the people, the history, the places
Enjolras would take the whole thing very seriously, as always, and would plan everything ahead with maps and compass and precise itineraries, while Bahorel would be like “nah son these things can’t be planned beforehand you just gotta let your instinct guide you man let it flow” and end up utterly lost but enjoying every minute of it because adventure
Grantaire would be so excited because so many new things to sketch and also he would probably be the one finding out beautiful hidden places like cute traditional coffee shops and pretty gardens behind iron-forged gates
Marius would be the most basic tourist omg but he’d marvel at everything bless his innocent soul
Jehan would love it as well because all those new places and sceneries and people are a great source of inspiration
Btw him and Cosette would probably be the ones starting up a dance in some little village, Tangled-style
Bossuet would always find himself in the most extraordinary and impossible situations and as a result would be the one with the most numerous funny and surprising anecdotes to tell in the end
Him, Joly and R would always be keen on trying the local cuisine and would spend hours at restaurants enjoying the dishes and good wine in the purest French tradition
Feuilly would end up rescuing so many stray animals??
If they get Enjolras drunk enough, you might see him standing on the main square of some little town rallying and exhorting crowds of bewildered locals
If your still doing prompts: Legit everything R owns has paint on it and it frustrates Enjolras to NO END OOOHHH MY GOOSHH. Cause this scruffy boy always looks so good??? Even tho everything he wears is messy ???? Ferre how he do that?
“Does he even own a washing machine?”
Combeferre barely glanced up from his lecture notes at the outburst, simply sighing around the pen cap he had wedged between his teeth. “Is this about Grantaire aga-”
“Yes, it’s about Grantaire again!” Everything was about Grantaire these days, from the way he talked to the way he dressed, and everyone knew better than to comment on his damn smile unless they wanted a fifteen minute tirade on how distracting it was. “He comes in, dressed like that, I mean. Who comes to a meeting covered in paint? I don’t think he’s shaved in two days, and you didn’t answer me about that washing machine.”
“Considering he lives in a fourth floor studio apartment? I doubt he does, Enj.” Courfeyrac stretched his arms across the table as he spoke, fiddling with Combeferre’s papers until he got his hand smacked away. “What are you working on anyway, babe?”
“Ooh, can I help? I’m good at anatomy.”
Combeferre shot him a knowing smile but shook his head. “Not that kind. Unless you want an in-depth understanding of your immune system for some reason. I could mark all your lymph nodes in Sharpie.”
Courf wrinkled his nose. “It’s bad that you can make that sound sexy, but I’ll pass.”
A high-pitched whine escaped Enjolras, and he sank heavily into the chair beside Courfeyrac. “I have the worst friends,” he muttered, slouching down in his seat. “You just flirt with each other and don’t help me with my problems. I don’t know why I even talk to you.”
“Actually, Enjolras, you have the best friends.” Combeferre set his notes aside and stared him down over the rim of his glasses. “Because we both know that the teakettle whine means you’re running out of actual complaints. Not that any of this really counts as complaining.”
Enjolras scowled back. “And what exactly does it count as anyway?”
“Pining,” Courfeyrac supplied, spinning both their chairs until his knees bumped Enjolras’. “It would be complaining if you didn’t have such an awful crush on him, but you do, so it’s not.”
“I don’t have a crush on-”
“Yes, you do, love. We all know it. And here’s what you’re gonna do.” Courfeyrac sat up straight and pulled Enjolras by the shoulders until the blond obliged and copied him. “You’re going to walk up to him, take him back to the dorm, and insist he use the washing machine downstairs because you can’t stand seeing him in that grubby tee shirt any more. Don’t let him out of your sight until he at least has that off. Then, less thinking, more talking.”
“Text us when you’re done,” Combeferre added before returning to his textbook.
Enjolras stared at them both in turn, equal parts dejected and offended and trying his best to ignore the stupid blush he could feel burning across his cheekbones and up to his ears. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, he turned back to Courfeyrac. “You sure it’ll work?”