Modern AU jehanpernasse where Jehan knows Klingon because they decided to study it one summer and Mont knows it because he's a Giant Fucking Nerd and they meet when Mont says some snooty comment in it thinking no one would understand and Jehan replies and they bond over being snarky shits in a Star Trek language
The only reason(s) why Montparnasse knows Klingon is that Babet (another Giant Fucking Nerd) once suggested adopting the language to communicate as not to be understood by prying ears, namely the cops. So they all learnt the language and the alphabet, and Montparnasse LOVES codes and secret languaes, because he thinks it’s badass and mysterious and all.
Now keep in mind that this happens in high school, in which Montparnasse is supposed to be that typical too cool for school bad boy with an attitude. And too cool for school badboys with an attitude aren’t exactly supposed to speak KLINGON!
So when Jehan talks Klingon back, Montparnasse flips the fuck out because “SHIT my cover’s been blown, no one can know I’m a nerd!” especially not that cute person he’s in English and Spanish class with. He just keeps a stone face and looks away, trying to pull himself together.
Later, as he empties his locker, he find a folded piece of paper. There’s a whole alphabet written on it, that isn’t Klingon at all, though it rings a bell. On top of the paper reads “It’s Elvish, if ever you wanted to learn another fictional language.” Several sentences are written at the bottom of the page, and Montparnasse decodes: “Hi, I’m Jehan. Feel free to toss that paper in the bin if I’m mistaken.”
He doesn’t. He folds the paper carefully and slips it in his pocket. Ensues weeks of little messages slipped into Jehan and Montparnasse’s respective lockers, all written in Elvish alphabet. The messages get flirty quickly, and Parnasse notices Jehan blushes everytime they walk past each other in the hallway. That does something to him. A great deal of things, actually.
Teach me spoken Elvish, he writes one day. Jehan, it turns out, is fluent in the language. And a fictional language shouldn’t sound so beautiful. Parnasse watches, mesmerized as Jehan tries to teach him the basics.
“Are you listening?” they ask, as they catch Montparnasse staring.
“Yeah! I swear!”
He’s less fluent than they are. The vowels are hard to get right.
“No, you need to open your mouth more,” Jehan points out, their thumb on his lower lip.
Montparnasse’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t now how to describe what he’s feeling, in French, Elvish, or else, but he doesn’t want it to stop.