So about forever ago I got the above prompt, and even earlier than that, someone requested a fic based on this art, which I promised to do and promptly forgot about (I mean, we’re talking this was well over a year ago now, so cut me the smallest bit of slack).
Anyway, I decided to combine the two and it turned into whatever this is.
E/R developing relationship, modern high school AU.
“Alright class, settle down,” Valjean said from the front of the room, and the class slowly fell into silence, until Courfeyrac, who hadn’t been paying attention, was the only one left talking animatedly to Marius, who blushed when Valjean said pointedly, “That does mean you, Mr. Courfeyrac.”
The class tittered and Courfeyrac grinned while Valjean just rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. “As much as I know you’ve all been looking forward to being done with our unit on sexually transmitted infections, that does mean we have to move into our next unit on family planning. As a reminder, I do not set the health class curriculum, the Board of Education does, so Mr. Enjolras, before you even bother complaining, my answer will be as it has been this entire time that there is nothing I can do.”
Enjolras scowled and crossed his arms in front of his chest, and from the back of the room, Grantaire snorted. “That being said,” Valjean continued, reaching under his desk and pulling out a sack of flour and setting it down on his desk with perhaps more force than necessary, “as you know, our final class project is the dreaded ‘flour baby’ project, and this year, I’ve decided to be a bit creative with the partnership assignments, to recognize – even if the school board refuses to do so – the reality of couples and partnerships beyond heterosexual marriages.”
For the first time, the class’s interest seemed piqued, and Valjean smiled before telling them, “But as a reminder, these partnerships are assigned and are not going to be changed, so I want to hear no complaining.” He grabbed his clipboard and began reading through the assignments, most of which garnered no more than the typical giggling and groaning, until he got to one assignment – “Mr. Enjolras, you’ll be working with Mr. Grantaire.”
Looking back at my own sex education, the flour babies and the putting on of the plastic condoms were the last thing we needed. What we needed was to be told that you didn’t have to let him put his hand in your knickers if you didn’t want him to, or that it wasn’t OK for him to call you a slut or jizz on your tits without permission. We needed to know where to get the morning after pill on a Sunday when there were no buses, and that just because you’d had one too many vodka red bulls, it still didn’t mean that you had said yes, and that, most importantly of all, it wasn’t your fault. We needed so much, so badly. We were crying out for it, and yet instead we were handed a pack of free johnnies and some leaflets about Aids and left to get on with it. They failed us, and some of us have suffered as adults as a result. Let’s not fail the next lot too.