the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the
They both TOTALLY LOSE THEIR CHILL. Neither of them knows
how to deal with serious feelings; we see Marius’ disaster feelings with
Cosette in canon, and I tend to think that Courfeyrac’s breezy devil-may-care
attitude is at least partly defense again the fact that emotions are
terrifying. So both of them just turn super awkward and weird around each
other, and each one of them is so into his own awkwardness and trying to hide
everything that neither notices how weird the other is being.
tells their family/friends about their relationship first?
doesn’t actually talk to his family, and all his friends are Courfeyrac’s
friends. Courfeyrac’s friends, however, are a bunch of busybody gossips it’s
impossible to keep anything from for long.
20.What do their family/friends think of their relationship?
doesn’t care so long as Marius doesn’t plan to marry him. He’s all for having
as many affairs as possible, even if some of them are with men. Theodule flirts
shamelessly with Courfeyrac even after finding out he’s taken, much to Marius
continual annoyance. His aunt is scandalized, but she was already perpetually scandalized by Marius’ existence so nothing much is new.
Amis as a collective entity are mildly bemused but supportive. Sure, date the
overly enthusiastic Bonapartist! We all liked him. Just please get him some
less embarrassing politics along the way.
“Ah, Monsieur Mabeuf,” said Cosette gently as she entered the room of the old man, who was staring at the wall, morose. When he looked up at her, frowning as if he was trying to remember who she was, she felt her heart clench. “It’s so warm in this room, Monsieur. Wouldn’t you like to get a bit of fresh air with me in the garden?”
“The garden,” repeated Monsieur Mabeuf, his eyes suddenly slightly brighter.
“Yes.” Cosette smiled. “Éponine mentionned to me that you had a fondness for flowers. I happen to have a lot of them, and i’ve neglected to see them for a long time now.”
“It’s no good to do that,” said Monsieur Mabeuf, shaking his head. “Flowers, they need care, and love. I had the book for you – i had, i had a lot of books…” His voice trailed off. He sighed. “I don’t know if I can move much, my lady. I am quite tired. Old men should not, perhaps, survive two bullets in the chest.”
“I won’t insist if you are too tired of course,” said Cosette carefully, moving in to rest a gentle hand on his frail shoulder. “But I would love to hear your advice, and i’ll be honest with you, it’ll be nice to have company to keep my mind off Marius’s sickness…”
“Oh,” said Mabeuf, startling. “You’re Marius’s lady. I thought – i was told you never left his side these days.”
Cosette’s cheeks turned dark, but she did not falter.
“Marius is well-cared for while I am absent,” she told Mabeuf. “He is with his friend Monsieur Courfeyrac, whom I think you know. Still, I can’t help feeling a bit agitated, as you understand. All signs point to him getting better, and yet -”
There was no pretense in the way her voice shook at the idea that Marius might truly never wake up. The thought horrified her still, and being far from him did not help her ease her worries. But the emotion seemed to do the trick at last. Mabeuf awkwardly patted her hand.
“There, there,” he said softly. “If an old man like me could get out of this barricade, I’m sure Marius can only do so too. He’s a brave boy, like his father. Help me out of his chair. We’ll go see your flowers now. Truly, flowers are more fragile than young men, we have to make sure they’re doing well.”
Okay but soulmate au where Marius has “put your hands up or I shoot” and courfeyrac has “oh thank GOD, you must be my soulmate. Also, do you always take laser tag this seriously?”
And Marius spends most of his life unbelievably terrified bc his soulmate is going to try and KILL HIM.
And courf just goes to play laser tag a lot.
“In my defense,” said Courfeyrac,
“I didn’t intend to bring it home.”
Marius continued to stare at his
roommate without saying a word. Finally, he managed to respond,
exasperated, “Then please explain what exactly you intended to do
“I merely intended to placate my
father, whose insistence that I marry and carry on the family name is
exhausting; as well you know, I have no intention of passing along
that damned particle.”
“So you intended to give it to
someone with whom you have no chance of… of procreating.”
Courfeyrac grinned as he held out the
ring, “So, may I take that as a yes?”
“There’s one thing I cannot quite figure out yet,” said Courfeyrac behind her suddenly. Eponine tensed, glancing at him. He was staring at the newly weds, an odd, wistful expression on his face. “Are you in love with Marius, or with Cosette?”
If Eponine had played the lady as well as she wished she could, she would have probably left, after making sure that Courfeyrac knew he had greatly offended and scandalized her; as it was, Eponine was still ill-suited to the role; she could barely fit right in all the dresses she had now and had dreamed of for years, and she could pretend even less that she was as respectable as she ought to be; she’d seen too many things. Courfeyrac wouldn’t have been able to shock her even if he tried, and – if she’d judge the man properly, he wasn’t that kind.
“Neither,” she said, honestly, and when he looked down at her, blinking dubiously, she shrugs an amended, defensive: “A little bit of both, perhaps. I don’t know. What about you?”
“I thought it was just Marius,” Courfeyrac answered, genuine and almost pensive.
It figured, Eponine thought, nodding. Cosette was like that; one minute you hated her, and everything she was – everything you thought you’d be, one day – and the next she was smiling at you and your heart was beating just a little too fast. Or maybe that was just Eponine. She didn’t like thinking about feelings too much; she got wistful if she lingered on it too long; No Marius for her; certainly no Cosette. Still, it was beautiful, the way they looked at each other like they were each other’s entire world. Eponine couldn’t even be properly jealous.
Glancing back at Courfeyrac again, it wasn’t hard to see he wasn’t jealous at all either.
“It’s improper, to stand so near a lady, and not making her dance,” she told him, abruptly, a bit too sharply.
He startled, and then, he smiled, amused and charmed.
“Of course,” he told her and hold out his hand after a brief curtsy, every bit the gentleman. “Mademoiselle -”
Eponine still got a thrill every time she was called “Mademoiselle”. It was nice, feeling proper and respected and all that. It felt right, even, more and more.
“Monsieur,” she said, and took his hand.