the #angst with a happy ending tag is now true
Courfeyrac worries he isn’t enough for Feuilly. Feuilly worries he isn’t doing enough.
Together, they work things out.
I’m writing this for Les Mis Rare Pairs Week because apparently that’s the kick in the pants I needed to actually write something the ship I’ve loved for months and months. It’s going to be 3 chapters but since it’s looking like I won’t finish it before the week is over, I figured I should at least post the first one today. Enjoy–and sorry about the angst, i swear it actually gets resolved in this one!
so Courfeyrac keeps coming buy like. borrowing sugar and flour and baking soda all the times, because Courf talks a lot but his flirting game when he has an actual crush is absolutely atrocious. it’s terrible pickup lines and bad jokes and Feuilly’s love that actually but Courfeyrac doesn’t know that so he has no idea how to approach him.
so after something like two months of that, Feuilly’s curious about his cute neighbour who looks like he bakes a lot so he gathers his courage and initiates Small Talk (with extra awkward because he’s not good at small talk) ‘’Hey you like to bake? That’s so cool what do you bake? I’m learning to bake too. Maybe we could swap tips and reciepes and stuff’ (and he curses himself because he’s actually terrible he burned the last three batches of cookies he’s tried).
But Courfeyrac’s been sorta gathering all these ingredients without knowing what to do with them and he panics like – ‘Crap have I been stealing from him?? I have haven’t I’
(they both call their friends/coworker Bahorel to help them come up with something, not realising they have a common acquaintance. And it all goes well, more or less, until they realise Bahorel gave them both the same tips and reciepes because no way he’s letting that kind of misunderstanding up in the air for long enough to screw everything up. in the end they all have a good laugh and Courfeyrac totally declares it a successful date. Feuilly’s still a lil embarrassed but he agrees.)
“Will y’all be having dessert today?” the waitress asked as she cleared their plates.
Courfeyrac smiled expectantly across the table at Feuilly, who tried not to blush.
“Nothing for me,” he said, turning his own polite smile up at her.
“Blasphemer,” Courfeyrac stage-whispered, grinning at the waitress when she laughed. “I’d like the churros, please.”
Feuilly felt a twitch of wanting; he hadn’t had churros in years, but even being in a sit-down restaurant was a splurge. Dessert would be overdoing it.
“I saw that,” Courfeyrac said, and Feuilly could feel his stomach sinking. “Come on, you so want some. Treat. Yo. Self.”
“N-no,” Feuilly insisted. “I’m really too full, honest. I’d never be able to finish them.”
“Fine, fine. You can have some of mine.”
“Oh, that’s really not –” Feuilly sputtered as the waitress made her way back to the kitchen.
“I insist!” Courfeyrac said grandly. “A good meal just isn’t complete unless you round it out with something sweet.”
Feuilly ducked his head and stifled a series of embarrassing thoughts about Courfeyrac’s presence more than adequately filling the position of “something sweet.”
“Only because you ordered churros,” he relented.
“That’s the spirit!”
Feuilly didn’t notice the weight he carried around until he met Courfeyrac and felt light for the first time.
There was a contagious sort of buoyancy to the talkative gentleman that lifted Feuilly from himself as easily as if he were driftwood borne on saltwater. He never quite forgot the things that weighed him down, but they instantly became easier to bear in Courfeyrac’s presence, the way stones become easier to carry as you walk with them into the sea.
And that was what Courfeyrac was, Feuilly decided. A crystalline sea, simultaneously strong and pliant, whose laughter built and broke in waves. Waves that, Feuilly knew, would slowly erode the heaviness within him, if he stayed by Courfeyrac’s side long enough.
Feuilly wasn’t sure if he deserved that, but he decided, watching laughter lines crinkle at the edges of Courfeyrac’s eyes, that he would try to, nonetheless. He would try to swim in this sweetness for as long as he could, and he would try, with all his might, not to drag them both down.
I was having a rotten day (still am), so I thought maybe tackling one of these might put me in a better mood?
Anyway, this ficlet lives in the future of my Fais de Beaux Rêves series. You don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on, you just need to know this: Feuilly has a foster sister (Tania), who he is still close to and he and (an aro/ace) Courfeyrac have a lovely little queerplatonic relationship going on. Enjoy? ^_^
Feuilly reached up to pull at his bow tie. He was pretty sure that the knot was supposed to be at the base of his throat, but given what a difficult time he was having swallowing around it, it felt like it was in his throat, instead. He’d never worn a bow tie before, couldn’t have imagined a circumstance in his life that would have required it, but here he was. In a bow tie. And a tux. With a chapel full of people just outside the doors and absolutely *certain* that he was going to royally fuck up.
Just as Feuilly was reaching up to pull on the bowtie, yet again, another’s hand reached out and covered his own before gently pulling it away. A soft “tsk, tsk” noise came from somewhere over his right shoulder. A moment later that other hand returned with its twin and reached up to loosen the bow tie just enough so that Feuilly could breathe, then proceeded to smooth the lay of his shirt and the lapels of his coat.
Feuilly turned in the circle of those arms, lips stretching into a smile that had to be just this side of gooey. Courfeyrac was already smiling when he turned and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. Such gestures were more common now than they had been in the beginning, but Feuilly was still leery of pursuing, of asking more than Courfeyrac was willing or able to give. So the kiss he gave in return was equally light, a brush of lips, nothing more. Still… it was enough. Courfeyrac’s smile widened as he finished his tidying of Feuilly’s clothes. Into the silence, he said, “Relax. You’ll do just fine. You just walk up the aisle, do your thing and that’s it. The whole thing will be over before you know it and then there will be cake.”
Feuilly huffed out a soft laugh. “I do like cake.”
“See? A silver lining.” Courfeyrac stepped back, eyes swiftly assessing of his handiwork. He nodded. “Perfect. You’re going to do Tania proud.”
Feuilly reached out to grab Courfeyrac’s hand to stop him as he turned to leave. His breath caught in his throat on his first attempt to speak, but he cleared his throat and tried again. “I know you never wanted… but I… Do you ever regret that people assume…?”
Courfeyrac’s gaze softened even as his grip on Feuilly’s hand tightened. “No.”
“No.” Courfeyrac’s thumb brushed slowly over the wedding band on Feuilly’s finger, the smooth silver a twin to the one on his own. He smiled again, a brief laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head. “Maybe I’ve mellowed in my older age, but the things that bothered me when I was twenty don’t bother me nearly as much any more. And maybe that’s you. Maybe it’s because you never push. Maybe it’s because you respect my boundaries. Maybe it’s because you’re willing to let this relationship be what it is without trying to make it something it isn’t. Maybe it’s just because you really were the right person at the right time. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I love being married to you. I love *you*. Let everyone assume what they will. You and I know better. Our friends know better. Your family knows better, even if mine is a little slow on the uptake. It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re happy, right?”
Feuilly’s heart rate kicked up at that, for any entirely different reason than his earlier nerves. It wasn’t often that either of them dared ask the other so explicitly if they were happy with the way things had turned out, but this was a better answer than Feuilly could have ever hoped for. He leaned forward for another kiss, whispering his answer into Courfeyrac’s lips. “Damned right.”
When Courfeyrac leaned back, the smile on his lips had turned playful. He spun Feuilly around and pushed him towards the door. “Then get out there and walk Tania down the aisle. The sooner we get this wedding started, the sooner we can get to the party that comes after… and the cake.”
Moments later, as Feuilly was watching Courfeyrac walk away to claim his seat next to Fantine and Darnell, a gentle hand reached out to tuck itself into the crook of his arm. Turning to take in the full on radiance that was his foster sister’s beaming smile, Feuilly couldn’t help but smile in return. “You ready?”
Tania leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss into Feuilly’s cheek before answering. “Didn’t you hear your husband? Let’s get down this aisle and get to the cake!“
Feuilly laughed. “You’re both hopeless.”
“But you wouldn’t have either of us any other way, would you, big brother?”
Feuilly leaned down to touch his forehead to Tania’s, before turning forward to face the church aisle, and the seat waiting for him next to Courfeyrac. “No. No, I wouldn’t. Not for the world.”