“…Prouvaire when did you get these flowers”
“When Titania’s wine was still on the blooms”
“Well she sent a maid to clean up the wine, then.”
I promise I will draw more Bini cuddles I PROMISE , but in the meantime have Grantaire being perplexed by Prouvaire’s hairstyle choices.
Believe it or not, I am still working on these nonsexual intimacy prompts!! I do really enjoy writing them, and I am excited about every one I got, I just have a lot going on these days and am moving slowly on them.
This is Carry On!Feuilly and Jehan, and it happens about a month or so after the end of that story. Also it has minor spoilers for what happens in that fic (just in case there’s someone following me who wanted to read it but didn’t yet? I feel like at this point that’s pretty unlikely).
Feuilly slid into the chair,
stifling a sigh. It had been one of those days that feel like
they’ve gone on for hours and hours, but when you look at the clock
it’s only 9 in the morning–and he’d only barely managed to get away
from work by 5:30. That was just enough time to ride 2 buses home,
change, and make it to the cafe where the ABC Society met, but not
enough time to eat dinner at home, so he’d ordered a panini at the
front counter of the coffee shop. He was regretting sitting down to
wait for it now, because that meant he’d have to stand up again when
his order was ready.
“Is everything okay?”
Jehan asked. Feuilly knew being blind could enhance the development
of your other senses, but was Jehan’s hearing really that good, to
pick out a tiny little sigh in a noisy, crowded coffee shop? Or had
Feuilly not been as good at hiding his exhaustion as he’d thought?
“I’m fine,” he said
“You just sounded tired,”
Jehan said. "Long day?“
“Yeah,” Feuilly admitted.
“And busy. Not–not bad
busy, just busy.”
over to the back of Feuilly’s chair, feeling his way from there to
Feuilly’s back. His fingers traced up Feuilly’s spine towards his
neck. "It must have been a stressful day,“ he said. "Your
shoulders are really tense. Is the new job okay?”
troubling thought crossed Feuilly’s mind: Did Enjolras and Combeferre
tell him? Part of him knew that was unfair; they’d asked his
permission before talking to Courfeyrac, hadn’t they? Still, the ABC
Society people were a pretty tight-knit group, and maybe Courfeyrac,
as open about his feelings as he was, hadn’t realized that Feuilly
wouldn’t want everyone knowing about how he’d fallen apart in
Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment. The idea–as unlikely as it
was–that people in the group would be keeping an eye on him,
watching to see if he could handle the more challenging work of his
new job, turned Feuilly’s stomach.
great, really great.” He found himself fiddling with the
wrapper from his straw. "My coworkers seem like good people,
and the paperwork isn’t too bad. I’m really happy to be learning
exactly what services are available here, and how to connect my
clients with them, and if there’s anything I can’t figure out, I have
lots of people I can ask about it, which is great. My caseload is
pretty small right now, and it’s going to get bigger, but it
shouldn’t be too bad,
so that’s good, and–“ He broke off, feeling the blood rush to
his cheeks. "Sorry–I’m babbling.”
twitched in a grin. "It’s fine. But–“ He hesitated, his
fingers still running idly up and down Feuilly’s back. "Maybe
I’m wrong, but you just sound like … like you’re trying to
convince yourself? It’s okay if the job isn’t that great–I’m not
going to report back to Courfeyrac or anything.”
a moment, Feuilly thought his fears were confirmed–then he realized
Jehan was referring to the fact that Courfeyrac had helped get
Feuilly the job. He laughed, a few beats too late. "No, the
job is fine. I mean, I might be trying to convince myself that I
can do it, but the job really is great.“
wouldn’t you be able to do it?”
It was a
question Feuilly ordinarily wouldn’t have answered. Maybe it was the
way Jehan asked it–not surprised, as if anybody should be able to
handle the challenge, but not terribly worried either. Maybe it was
the stress of a new job seemed like nothing after all the shit he’d
spilled out before Enjolras and Combeferre. Maybe it was the gentle
touch of Jehan’s hand on his back.
shrugged. "I don’t know, just … it might be too much work,
you know? I was there until 5:30 tonight, and I know I’ll definitely
have more work as I get more cases–and things will go faster once I
know the ropes, of course, but maybe not enough to equal out the
amount of work, and …“
tomato turkey on wheat,” someone called from the counter.
mine,” Feuilly said, taking a deep breath as he gathered his
energy to get up and collect his food. He laughed half-heartedly.
“Sorry, maybe I’m just being a pessimist since I’m hungry.”
find that things look a little more manageable on a full stomach,”
Jehan agreed. He squeezed Feuilly’s shoulder once more before
removing his hand to let him stand up. "But if it doesn’t work
out that way this time … I’ll still be here.“
soooo not quite The Prompt, but I incorporated the word at least? >.> I am rusty at these two. please forgive me. 🙂
aaaah I love it! The feeling of a lazy Morning After (after what? does anyone even really remember?) ,the affectionate mutual snarking,the horrible decor, it’s all great. Thank you!
This somehow ended up from Enjolras’ POV, but all the snuggling is between Feuilly and Jehan, so hopefully that’s OK. ^_^ Thanks for your patience! ^_^
Running a club focused on bringing about the betterment of society was often a thankless job made up of a multitude of smaller thankless jobs, and this was a fact of which Enjolras was well aware. He’d started the Alpha-Beta-Kappa Society with two like-minded and willing individuals almost five years ago, now, and it was thriving, its membership growing robust and numerous compared to its small start. He, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had stayed involved, even once they’d moved on to graduate school, happy to keep a hand in whenever they were asked. There were, however, certain benefits to having achieved emeritus status from the board; it meant that the truly thankless and mind-numbing tasks could fall to younger hands. Collating and stuffing orientation packets, for example, had been the particular bane of Enjolras’ existence in the beginning. He didn’t have patience for it and he never finished the process with fewer than three paper cuts. So, when two of the new freshmen had volunteered to take up the task, Enjolras had been more than happy to pass it over.
Looking down on the two new recruits, now, Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. Jehan had tipped over sideways, one foot dangling towards the floor, the other kicked up to rest on the bench. One arm was thrown over his head, the other trailing along the floor, his last batch of papers spilling from lax fingers. Jehan’s head was burrowed behind his partner in collation, pressed between Feuilly’s back and the back of the bench. Feuilly was equally unresponsive, though he was less sprawled in his repose. Arms crossed over his chest, his cap pulled down over his face, and his feet crossed at the ankles, he was the most contained accidental napper that Enjolras had ever seen.
Enjolras reached out to gather the papers from Jehan’s hand, as well as the few which had fallen from the piles on the tables. Even that small noise, however, was enough to wake Feuilly. His hand rose to rub at slowly blinking eyes, a soft whine emerging from his lips in protest at his awakening. The noise and the jostling woke Jehan behind him, nearly resulting in this both ending up on the floor as sleep-deadened limbs fought with startled senses to attempt movement far too soon.
Moments later, two pairs of red-rimmed eyes turned to face Enjolras, each with an accusation in one sleepy eye and mounting horror and embarrassment in the other. Before either could speak, Enjolras shook his head and smiled. “You two look about done in.” Nodding towards the other side of the room, he said, “That couch has seen to the needs of more than a few willing minds with unwilling bodies. I promise you, it’s been well broken-in for comfort and can easily accommodate two—three if you’re willing to be overly friendly. Why don’t you two get some rest while I finish up, then I’ll drive you both home.”
It didn’t take much convincing to get Feuilly and Jehan relocated to the couch, and Enjolras was almost positive that at least one of them was asleep before their bodies hit the pillows. They settled into a tangle of limbs that Enjolras well recognized, having spent his fair share of time tangled on that couch with either Courfeyrac or Combeferre—and sometimes Courfeyrac *and* Combeferre—and he smiled to see it.
Forty-five minutes of mind-numbing collating later, Enjolras finally stuffed the last of the packets and put it atop the pile. He turned back towards the couch with every intention of waking Feuilly and Jehan and getting them home… but froze, unable to make a single move that might disturb the tableau. Jehan had ended up on the outside edge, facing the back of the couch with Feuilly tucked into the curve of his body. Their legs had tangled together and both looked comfortable and content. Enjolras was loathe to move either of them… so he didn’t.
Enjolras went into the closet and retrieved the afghan that Bahorel had made for literally this exact reason—during his last year of undergraduate school, Enjolras had slept on this couch more often than he’d slept in his own bed—and draped it over Feuilly and Jehan. And then it was all he could do not to actually squeak when they responded by snuggling further into it and each other. He could almost hear Courfeyrac’s voice in his ear, filled with fond exasperation, calling him the world’s biggest sap. Maybe he was. And where was the harm in that, anyway?
Turning off the overhead lights, Enjolras settled in at his desk and powered up his computer. He’d just stick around and get a little work done while Feuilly and Jehan rested. After all, what would be the point of being an emeritus member if you couldn’t look after and help out those who were stepping in to fill your shoes? No point at all.
fandom nerds bein’ slain by Emotions together since Ever
Oh gosh, Pilf. I’m tempted to ask what they’re reading, but I’m also not sure if I want to know. (Also, who’s the faster reader, because oh so many variables.)
Bahorel’s the faster reader, because Prouvaire keeps stopping to Emotions. (Bahorel definitely Emotions, but he’s one of those people who then reads FASTER to find out What Happens Next Oh No Oh No.) Maybe that’s part of why Prouvaire is punching him– don’t you DARE turn the page, you freaky speed-reader! Emotions Time!
Les Mis Modern Aesthetic, Jean Prouvaire
He loved to saunter through fields of wild oats and corn-flowers, and busied himself with clouds nearly as much as with events. His mind had two attitudes, one on the side towards man, the other on that towards God; he studied or he contemplated. All day long, he buried himself in social questions, salary, capital, credit, marriage, religion, liberty of thought, education, penal servitude, poverty, association, property, production and sharing, the enigma of this lower world which covers the human ant-hill with darkness; and at night, he gazed upon the planets, those enormous beings. Like Enjolras, he was wealthy and an only son. He spoke softly, bowed his head, lowered his eyes, smiled with embarrassment, dressed badly, had an awkward air, blushed at a mere nothing, and was very timid. Yet he was intrepid.
Les Miserables, Victor Hugo, 3.4.1
Face Claim: Willy Cartier
(Thanks @thecoffeetragedy, for planting the idea in my mind of him as a fc for Jehan! GOOD CALL.)