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It's one of those kind of meetings.
Enjolras is giving one of his famous speeches, the kind where he's so into it that he doesn't notice anything around him. His eyes are distant, his mind only focused on his darling Patria.
“And so, we need to rally the people! That’s the only way our cause can be achieved, we need the support, the strength...”
Courfeyrac is bored out of his skull. He tears his eyes away from Enjolras and looks around the room at everyone else. He's pretty sure everyone is just as bored as he is- Feuilly is actually drooling. Combeferre usually tries to pay attention, but he can see that even he's slipping and letting his gaze wander over to Eponine, who is nearby in the shadows behind Marius and Cosette. The only person who is paying attention is Grantaire. He’s a little more sober than usual tonight, but there’s still a tiny flask present. He has his eyes fixed on Enjolras. And Courf knows it's not because he cares about what Enjolras has to say. Grantaire couldn’t give less of a shit about “the free world.” Grantaire just loves the golden boy (and probably wants the golden D, but Courf keeps that thought to himself.) Deciding to make things a little more interesting, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text.
Across the room, Bahorel is lounging in his chair with his feet propped up on the table when his phone lights up.
Courf: Get down, Mr. President.
Bahorel looks up at Courf, cracking an evil grin. Perfect.
Courf starts, casually placing his finger below his ear, secret-service style. Bahorel follows suite. They look around to see if anyone picks up.
Jehan sees it immediately, suppressing a small smile. He shifts his position so his head is on resting his hand, putting his finger under his ear. It’s nearly hidden by his braid. Courf winks at him.
Combeferre notices immediately, too. He's good at that. Courf doesn't think Combeferre has ever lost a round (which is a good thing, because if he got tackled by 12 fully-grown people he would inevitably break his glasses and then they'd be in trouble.) Combeferre looks at him with a disapproving frown and shakes his head slightly. Courf wiggles his eyebrows. Combeferre looks from him, to Enjolras, and back to Courf. Courf can basically see the gears turning in his brain- he has to do it, or he'll be jumped. A small smirk appears on his face as he slowly slides his hand up to his ear. He nudges Eponine gently with his elbow and she tears her gaze away from Marius for a minute to look at him. She looks at his grin with a perplexed expression until she notices his hand on his ear and does the same with an evil smirk to rival Bahorel's. It only lasts for a minute though, because she looks at Marius and Cosette and it slips back into the frown she's been wearing all night. Combeferre places his other hand on her shoulder and rubs it gently. She gives him a weak smile, and, still holding her secret service pose, scoots her chair over so she can rest her head on his chest.
Joly sees it now, too. He looks absolutely torn- half terror, half amusement. He pokes Bossuet, who is lying with his head in Joly's lap. He lazily copies Joly's pose with an eyeroll.
"Fucking Mr. President," he mutters before Joly shushes him.
Last time this happened, he was the one who got tackled. And because he's Bossuet, he ended up with a double black eye and a cut lip.
Feuilly looks up from the book he’s been immersed in when he hears Bossuet’s comment and jerks his hand up so quickly that for a minute Courfeyrac is terrified Enjolras might notice. Feuilly has also been on the receiving end of a Mr. President attack and it’s clear he’s not keen to go through it again, which is a shame- it was one of the most memorable ones.
“FUCK YOU.’”
“Feuilly-”
“I FUCKING HATE YOU ALL YOU MADE ME SPILL MY COFFEE OH MY GOD FUCK YOU”
“Should’ve been paying attention, Feuilly.”
“SHUT UP COMBEFERRE YOU NEVER LOSE”
This continued in a similar fashion, followed by a string of various Polish curses.
“Who’s touching my butt?” That was Joly, who’s face was mashed into Jehan’s chest.
“Oops, sorry,” -Bahorel. “But it is a nice butt...”
“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY MAN’S BOOTY.”
“Bossueeeeeeeeet!”
“Is anyone else getting a really homoerotic vibe from this?”
There were continued “FUCK YOU”s from Feuilly, lost somewhere underneath Courfeyrac.
“Someone’s hand is on my crotch.” That was Enjolras. Suddenly his voice went up about 4 octaves- Courf thought he might have heard a glass break. “WHO THE FUCK JUST SQUEEZED THERE? THAT IS NOT FUNNY!”
There was a chuckle from Grantaire.
Speaking of R, he’s waiting- he's had his hand up for a while. He glares at Marius (even Cosette has picked up by now) but Marius, in the way only he can, is utterly oblivious. Enjolras is still speaking but it's only a matter of time before the man's gotta stop speaking and actually breathe. And then he'll definitely notice that everyone has their hands on their ears. And although he'll disapprove ("We don't have time for this nonsense! We are trying to change the world, people!") he sure as hell doesn't want to be jumped, so he'll do it. That means they have to jump Marius, who isn't much fun to jump because jumping Marius is equivalent to jumping an innocent butterfly or something. He never has any idea of what's going on until everyone's on top of him and he squeals a little bit and then everyone feels bad.
Everyone is silently praying that Marius will notice when Cosette-bless her soul, pokes him in the side and tilts her head so he can see what she's doing.
He blinks a few times, confusion spread across his freckled face.
Then he gets it.
Grantaire launches himself upwards the minute he sees Marius raise his hand.
"GET THE FUCK DOWN, MR. PRESIDENT!"
Enjolras only has time to stop speaking before Grantaire tackles him, followed by everyone else (they look like retarded dominoes) until they're all lying in a pile of bodies on the floor. Eponine is crushed against Combeferre (who doesn’t seem to mind), the only visible part of Feuilly is his leg, and Bahorel, Joly, and Bossuet are tangled up completely. Jehan and Courf both escaped the more disastrous parts- Jehan is perched on the side, looking quite pleased with himself, and Courf is sitting on top of everyone.
A muffled "I hate you all," drifts from the very bottom of the pile.
Enjolras drags himself out from underneath Grantaire, who looks like he's enjoying this a little too much. Perhaps he remembers the legendary crotch-squeeze.
He stands up, retaining a stony expression. It's a bit hard to take him seriously when his hair has been flipped completely to one side. So much for “angelic curls.”
"Who started it?" he asks, turning on his “I’m-the-leader-now-you-better-listen” voice.
Courfeyrac has never really had the greatest poker face.
And it doesn't help that everyone is staring at him.
And Enjolras looks absolutely ridiculous, his face red, his hair messy, his jacket hanging on by one sleeve, all while trying to keep a straight expression.
So he really can’t help that he bursts out laughing.
If looks could kill, Courf would’ve been dead 100 years ago. But he sees the weakness in Enjolras’ face, he knows he can’t hold that dark expression for long.
And he’s right. Enjolras manages to look angry for about 0.4 seconds (Joly claimed later that no,no, it was 0.6) before the marble cracks and a grin splits Enjolras’ face wide open.
“You’re all a bunch of children.”
Courfeyrac shrugs with an innocent grin. “Maybe.”
Now that he thinks about it, he really should have anticipated the tackle that hit him the next day.