Work Text:
It was movie night, and so everyone was gathered in Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Jehan's apartment, talking. Enjolras had, today, come without too much complaint, and was sat in front of Grantaire, who was curled up at one end of the sofa. Joly and Bossuet had claimed the rest of it; Jehan, Courfeyrac and Combeferre had piled beanbags together and were curled around each other; Bahorel was sprawled on the armchair, Feuilly sat on his stomach; Marius, Cosette and Eponine sat in the floor space between the sofa and the armchair.
Grantaire was playing idly with Enjolras' hair, which was growing long again. His fingers brushed the back of their leader's shoulder, slightly displacing the collar of his shirt, and allowing a black mark to be shown.
"Hey, what's this?" he asked, pushing Enjolras' collar further down, revealing more of what seemed to be black lettering. "Is this a tattoo? I didn't know you had a tattoo, Enjolras."
From across the room, Courfeyrac snorted quietly.
"Don't you dare, Courfeyrac." Enjolras said in warning, sitting up sharply and jerking away from Grantaire. He tugged pointedly on his shirt to once more cover the dark lines of ink. Grantaire pulled his hands back like he'd been burned, and held them up in a gesture of surrender. Jehan turned his face to hide his giggles in Combeferre's shoulder.
Feuilly grinned crookedly, shaking his head. "People are going to see it sometime, Enjolras." He pointed out, sitting up just a bit to look at Enjolras, earning a frown in return.
"Come on." Courfeyrac grinned, sitting forward eagerly.
"Am I missing something?" Grantaire murmured quietly.
Combeferre couldn't help his own laughter. "Enjolras, if you don't tell him I think Courfeyrac will get the photos." He said with a pointed look at the blond.
Enjolras sighed. "It’s really not important."
"It sort of is. Just let him look at the photos." Feuilly argued.
"I'll get them!" Courfeyrac crowed, scrambling up from his beanbag and dashing out into another room.
"I'm curious now too. Come on, Enjolras, share." Bahorel said, sitting up partially, an arm caught around Feuilly.
"What's so bad about having a tattoo?" Joly enquired.
"There's more than that." Jehan said.
"Got them!" Courfeyrac announced as he barrelled back into the room. He threw one in Grantaire's direction, almost hitting him in the face. Grantaire just managed to catch it, and looked down, and a grin slowly spread across his face.
Enjolras was glaring fiercely at the camera, obviously not at all happy with the picture being taken. His hair, instead of its current, natural blonde, was a bright and vibrant red, and half of it was shaved short, the rest growing out and ruffled into a mess. He sported a lip ring, and the top of his left ear was pierced with many rings. The logo on his shirt was obscured by his moodily crossed arms, but the shirt itself seemed to be black and ripped to show red material.
"So, a rebellious teen stage, then?" Grantaire laughed.
"Shut up. You are awful people." Enjolras retorted, expression rather reminiscent of the one in the photo.
"His parents were really unhappy about it." Feuilly said to Grantaire, ignoring Enjolras' sour expression. "Do you still have the piercings, Enjolras?"
The blond rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't know. I don't wear jewellery."
"Don't be so mad, Enjolras. That certainly wasn't the worst thing you could have done, though I still say the tattoo was over the top." Combeferre stated in a soothing tone.
Grantaire leaned in to peer at the top of Enjolras' ear. "I think some of them have survived." he stated, running a finger gently over the scars and holes. "Pity you don't still have the lip piercing though."
Enjolras gave Grantaire a look. "Really?" He was rather surprised that of all the, admittedly stupid, things he'd done, that particular one interested Grantaire.
"I don't know, you'd look pretty hot with a lip ring." Grantaire shrugged.
"What is the tattoo?" Marius asked, peering over at Enjolras curiously.
"It's..." He trailed off and sighed. Only one way to get them to drop this.
Enjolras unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide from his shoulders and down to his elbows. He turned so that he had his back to the group, looking none too happy.
Everyone craned forwards to see the tattoo. It was a rippling and slightly tattered French flag, the word 'PATRIA' scrawled across it in ornate letters. It took up a majority of his left shoulder, completely covering his shoulder blade and sprawling across to spill close to his spine and over his shoulder.
"Trust you." Grantaire smirked.
"Looks pretty awesome though." Eponine chipped in.
Courfeyrac, meanwhile, was still spluttering slightly, and had given various pictures to any of their friends who had not known Enjolras during his teen years.
"I was seventeen, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Granted he'd also been mad and worked up at the time. Combeferre had tried to talk him out of it. "Are you all happy now?" He asked, buttoning the shirt back up.
Bahorel snickered, his expression somewhere between incredulous and amused. "I sure am. I never expected you to be that type."
"Yeah, I wouldn't have thought it of you Enjolras." Eponine teased.
"You guys missed so much by not knowing him." Courfeyrac laughed."He was a riot. Almost literally."
Grantaire, still grinning slightly, leaned forward to press a kiss to the top of Enjolras' head, his fingers slipping under the collar of the shirt again to trace the tendrils of the letters that showed.
"I think he managed to start a few." Combeferre agreed.
"I think it was just the one time." Feuilly said thoughtfully, swatting at Bahorel when he started laughing again.
"I wasn't that bad." Enjolras said pointedly, glaring at his friends as though this were their fault- which it partly was.
"You were." Jehan pointed out.
"Even Bahorel wasn't that bad." Grantaire laughed, then thought for a moment. "Well... he never started any riots..."
"No, there was that one time with the fire extinguisher and the lifters from the gym." Bahorel pointed out, earning a couple of funny looks. Bahorel just shrugged in response.
"Oh yeah. You started that one?" Grantaire nodded. "You broke your arm with that one, didn't you?"
"I doubt any of you were any better at seventeen." Enjolras retorted with a glare.
Jehan blushed slightly and Courfeyrac grinned sheepishly at Enjolras' accusation. Marius opened his mouth, and then shut it, staring down at his lap, where his hands twisted together. Grantaire frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.
"If I remember right, Enjolras, I was spending that time keeping an eye on you." Combeferre pointed out, sitting up fully to look at Enjolras.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Enjolras denied, expression daring Combeferre to argue.
"I've known you since you were born, of course I was the one keeping an eye on you." Combeferre argued.
"You do not remember that far back, you were two."
"Now you're just being contrary."
Courfeyrac was rolling on the floor, cackling. Jehan prodded him, trying not to grin too much. Enjolras made a noise of resigned indignation, hanging his head and leaning mildly into Grantaire.
"That much trouble, huh?" Joly grinned. Then he turned to Bossuet, still smiling. "Then again, I had to keep my eye on you. How many bones did you break when you were 17 alone?"
Bossuet thought a moment, counting on one hand thoughtfully. "Five. Six if you count the double fracture of my ulna."
That was the time he’d fallen down a flight of stairs after tripping over his third brother's monster of a dog.
"You really do have bad luck." Feuilly said with a slightly disbelieving expression.
"You wouldn't believe it if you didn't know him." Joly says. "The amount of times he's had sprains, breaks- you mention it he's probably done it. I'm pretty sure he got banned from gym eventually because he almost killed himself every time he tried to play sport."
"Yeah, no, I can believe it." Courfeyrac said. He tipped his head back into Jehan's lap, sighing reminiscently. "Aah, I remember being 17."
"Wasn't that your hipster phase?" Jehan teased. Courfeyrac wrinkled his nose.
"Don't remind me, polka-dots-and-stripes." He said, sticking out his tongue as Jehan blushed slightly.
"The coach and nurse pulled me out of gym class, yeah. They ended up giving me a study hall and asking me to tutor people." Bossuet laughed. "I messed that one up too, though. I got burnt from spilt coffee more times than I'd like to say."
Bahorel snorted. "The saddest part is that that doesn't surprise me at all. Well, almost doesn't. Did you wear the stupid glasses?"
"If he did he probably broke them." Joly joked, smiling up at Bossuet.
"Did you spend as much time in the nurse’s office as he did then?" Eponine teased lightly. Joly winced slightly.
"Yeah..." he murmured. “Being a teenager with generalised anxiety disorder and a tendency towards hypochondria did not work out well."
"That's how we met. Someone opened a door and broke my nose. I was waiting to go home when Joly came in." Bossuet said after a moment.
"I hope your nurse liked you." Combeferre said with a little smile.
"She really didn't have a choice..." Bossuet rubbed his neck.
"She got to know us very well." Joly nodded. "Lovely woman."
Eponine laughed and turned to look at Bahorel. "What about you, big guy?"
Bahorel coughed and shrugged a bit, glancing at Grantaire. "I got into a lot of fistfights- I spent a lot of time suspended and my mother started buying bandages a lot."
Feuilly winced a bit. "I'm guessing your parents weren't very happy."
Bahorel shrugged. "My mother worried more than anything else, it was my father that did the punishing, usually by kicking my ass and then making me run laps until I was too tired to move."
"Punched pretty much anything that moved wrong." Grantaire gave a little smile. "Not much has changed really." He shifted slightly, running his hands through Enjolras' hair again. "Spent most of his time looking after me when he wasn't hitting stuff."
"Can't argue there." Bahorel sat up, an arm hooked around Feuilly to keep him from falling. "Everyone was a dick, and R needed more adult supervision than a toddler."
"A toddler?" Enjolras' mouth quirked into a bit of a smile as he turned to look at Grantaire in mild amusement.
"You think I'm bad now, you should have seen me at 17." Grantaire sounded like he was jesting, but his eyes weren't quite smiling. "If I could walk, it wasn't in a straight line. He barely let me out of his sight."
Bahorel nodded. "Someone needed to watch R. He wasn't doing it and his damned father certainly wasn't."
"Really?" Bossuet asked, earning a curt nod from Bahorel in response.
Grantaire's fingers tightened reflexively in Enjolras' hair for a second, but he kept from flinching."I was pretty self-destructive at that point, and my father was at his worst then. Actually, that's when he got arrested. I lived with Bahorel's family after that." He shrugged as if to brush it off.
"My father died when I was 17." Marius volunteered. "I didn't know him, at all. My grandfather forced him to give me up. When I found out I got mad, stormed out. Grandfather disowned me. That's when I met Courf."
Courfeyrac offered a little smile at him.
"Seventeen would've been... I think that was the family from Strasbourg. They were nice. I would've liked staying with them, but they moved to Martinique, and by that point I was a legal adult. I stayed with Enjolras or Combeferre a lot." Feuilly recounted.
"Were they your last family? I thought you had them earlier on." Combeferre frowned in thought.
"No, they were last." Feuilly confirmed.
"This is cheerful." Courfeyrac murmured.
"This is life." Grantaire countered in his true cynical fashion.
"I never noticed how depressing you all are." Bahorel commented, looking around the room at his friends for a moment.
"The accuracy of that statement is a bit unsettling." Combeferre said with a mild frown.
"What can you do?" Grantaire said, shrugging.
"We're all a bit fucked up." Eponine pointed out.
"’Bit’ is an understatement." Joly murmured.
“Well, I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Courfeyrac piped up, smiling in that contagious way of his. “I propose we cuddlepuddle and get a movie on.”
Combeferre shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips, and he pulled the beanbags into the centre of the room. Joly and Bossuet tossed down their couch cushion, and Grantaire eventually relented to surrendering his. Courfeyrac sprawled out in the middle, as always, with Jehan and Combeferre directly at either side; Joly and Bossuet curled up together next to Jehan, and Enjolras sat beside Combeferre, where Grantaire moved to curl around his back with his arms around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. Bahorel shoved Feuilly playfully off his lap only to pull him back once he was lounging on a sofa cushion with his head on Grantaire’s knee. Eponine crawled forward to lie on her stomach in front of everyone; Marius and Cosette huddled together at Joly’s shoulder. After quickly glancing around to ensure everyone was settled, Courfeyrac let out a triumphant whoop and the huge debate on which film to watch began.