Enjolras and Feuilly <3

Send me ships

Yessssssssssss.  ^____________^  OK, so we’ve discussed this many times before but Enjolras/Feuilly is definitely a ‘10′ ship for me (maybe an ‘11′ by now?  XD).  ^_^  They’re just too adorable because they respect and admire each other SO MUCH and can you imagine how good they’d be for each other?  I mean, they both suck at self-care because they get too wrapped up in their causes, but they’d be SO GOOD at taking care of each other.  *_*

But it took them a long time to get there.

They have such a slow courtship.  Seriously.  SO. SLOW.

When they first met, Feuilly was very closed off emotionally.  He was passionate, sure, but he didn’t open up about himself much.  He was quick to take up a cause, but slow to let anyone else in.  He’d lost too much in his life and he’d been hurt too often and it had turned him shy of making new friendships.  And he’d been so focused on getting out and doing better for himself that romance just never seemed to be in the cards.

Enjolras, OTOH, was an open book… he’d just never really thought about dating much. 
There were always other things
which took precedence – school, friends, injustice.  Who had time for
romance, right? 

If pressed he’d have
said that he was asexual and aromantic, since a history of a lack of interest must mean something, right?

But when he meets Feuilly, they just *click*.

Pfft.  No, they don’t.

(More behind the cut because this is getting long and turning into a mini-fic, good grief. O_o;;;)

When Enjolras and Feuilly first meet, they admire each other from a distance.  Feuilly respects Enjolras, looks up to him as a leader and upperclassman, but he’s learned that someone who looks that good from a distance hardly ever is from close up.  So, he’s afraid to get too close, even if he can’t deny that there’s something compelling about Enjolras, especially when he’s all riled up from speechmaking.

As for Enjolras, he’s absolutely floored by Feuilly’s passion and his willingness to do whatever it takes to help out, no matter how much else he has on his plate.  But every time he tries to talk to him, he ends up tripping over his tongue in the worst possible ways.  (Seriously, it’s SO PAINFULLY AWKWARD – think Shang in Mulan “…you fight good.” level of awkward.  SO. AWKWARD.)  Every bit of his eloquence deserts him.

What Enjolras doesn’t know, however, is that every single time he trips over himself trying to talk to Feuilly… Feuilly gets that much more comfortable around him.  Because, hey look, he’s not perfect.  He messes up.  He blushes.  One time he even squeaked, he was so embarrassed.  (Combeferre heard about that one in great detail later.  From both of them.  And both had their faces buried in their hands when they relayed the story, and related it in equally high pitched tones… just for entirely different reasons.  He found it hilarious.)

It takes them over a year before they can manage a full conversation that consists of more than “Hello!” and “Great speech!” and “OK, bye!”  But once that ice is broken, it is BROKEN.  They find that they more interests in common than they ever would have guessed.  They eventually start staying after meetings for hours, often closing out the bar in their zeal for conversation.  Two years after their first meeting, they’re as comfortable with each other as it’s possible for two people to be with each other.  They’re each other’s first phone call when they’re in trouble, or when they have good news, or when they’re upset… or when they wake up in the morning.

And Enjolras, who never had time or interest in romance or sex, and Feuilly who was too angry and bitter to even contemplate it… find their opinions changing.  Glances linger just a little longer.  Touches become a little more intimate.  Smiles soften just a hair.  And five years after their first meeting when people start assuming that they’re dating… they simply smile and don’t bother to correct them.

Advertisements

Les Mis Modern Aesthetic, Couples Edition: Enjolras x Feuilly

(I was starting to get skeptical that I’d have time to write a full fic for @lesmisrarepairs, so I had to at least do this for one of my favorite rare pairs.  ^_^  So… photoset and a snippet?)

“Wait.  Wait, wait, wait.  You want me to spend Thanksgiving Break at the Cape… with you.  Just… you and me.  No one else.  Did I hear that right?”

Enjolras swallowed hard against the feeling of nervous laughter doing its best to claw its way up his throat.  He’d blurted out the offer without letting it stop at his brain on the way to his mouth, without even considering how it would look from the other side of this conversation.  Feuilly was a freshman.  Enjolras was a first year law student.  They’d barely known each other three months, for all that they’d clicked as easily as Enjolras had with Combeferre four years prior—something that Enjolras hadn’t been able to say of anyone else, not even Courfeyrac.  

Enjolras had no idea what Feuilly usually did with his time at the holidays, if there was a foster family that still had enough space for him in their hearts to willingly take him in, if there were friends who’d already asked, if he even celebrated Thanksgiving, at all.  What Enjolras did know was that he, himself, had a loving family, a host of good friends, and more than his own fair share of invitations for the break… and how selfish was he to throw it all away on what must look like a whim?

Oh *gosh*, Enjolras had to say something.  Offer an explanation.  Make an excuse.  Something about Alpha-Beta-Kappa?  Maybe say that he was inviting everyone on the current board?  *Anything.*  Anything to get that look off of Feuilly’s face.  Anything to make this look less like what it must look like—a graduate student taking advantage of a freshman’s admiration, because that was what it must look like, right?

But before Enjolras even had a chance, the bemused look on Feuilly’s face eased, that small frown inverted into an even smaller smile and his entire posture softened.  Feuilly took a step closer, easing into Enjolras’ personal space as though he’d belonged there all along.  Enjolras’ breath stuttered and froze in his throat, his eyes going wide as Feuilly took his hand and entwined their fingers together.

Feuilly’s smile widened, and, as easily as that, Enjolras could breathe, again.  

“Enjolras… I’d be delighted.”

(…more to come if I have time between now and Saturday?  -.-;;;)

Hello! For the meme please ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together with Jehan and Feuilly

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.

Jehan and Combeferre, ♥️

WOW, this ended up longer than I intended.  Sorry.  Ran away from me a little.  ^_^  Anyway, this ending up slotting perfectly into the No Man Is An Island ‘verse, but I’m pretty sure you can read it without knowing anything about the other story.  All you need to know is that Jehan and Combeferre went to medical school together and were roommates.  Which… you probably didn’t need me to tell you.  ^_^

Anyway, I have one more prompt to do, but I have class in two hours and some work that I should at least TRY to get done before then, then I have rehearsal tonight, so maybe I’ll get to the other sometime later or tomorrow?  Sorry for the delay!

And if anyone else wants to send prompts, feel free!


♥:
Reacting to the other one crying about something

Long days were par for the course in medical school.  They often began before dawn and ended long after the sun had gone down for the night.  In between, students moved from lecture to lecture, from exam room to exam room, from building to building, with hardly a chance to even look at the sun in between.  It was no mean feat to suffer from seasonal affective disorder even at the height of summer, but most of Jehan’s classmates were managing it.  The long hours took their toll on him, as well, but Jehan had always thrived on adversity, and so he thrived here, too—a nightblooming flower.  But even nightblooming flowers had to sleep sometime.

Jehan had had the first shift tonight, from 8 to 2 AM and he was long past ready to crawl into bed and sleep like the dead.  He was also long past ready to be done with medical school and internships and residencies and who knew what else.  He was tired of looking in the mirror and seeing darkened bruises where his lower eyelids should have been.  He was ready to be done with all of it, and settled into a comfortable practice somewhere where he could set his own hours.

More than anything, though, he was ready to be done with this—the first thing he had noticed upon walking into the apartment he shared with Combeferre was that the lights were off.  Usually when Combeferre had an earlier shift than he did, he would leave a light on somewhere in the apartment for him.  The only times that he didn’t were if he’d hidden himself away in his bedroom before the sun went down and hadn’t emerged since.  So, either he’d gotten so wrapped up in studying that he’d lost track of the time, or…

Jehan pushed open the door to Combeferre’s room to find exactly what he’d feared he might.  Combeferre was curled up in the corner of his bed, knees tucked to his chest, and a forlorn look in his eyes only visible thanks to the streetlamp outside.  Jehan slipped into the room and eased the door shut behind him, moving slowly and quietly so as not to startle Combeferre.  He didn’t get even a flicker of acknowledgement until he’d kicked off his shoes and crawled up onto the bed, himself.  From this distance, he could see that Combeferre was tense, every muscle locked.  There were half-dried tear tracks on his face, as well.  And even as Jehan reached out to brush the remaining wetness away, his eyes flooded anew.  

Seeing that, Jehan abandoned his subtle tactics and instead pulled Combeferre out of the corner and into the center of the bed, tucking him into the curve of his body and wrapping his arms firmly around him.  Once so secured, Combeferre began to tremble in earnest, soft sobs shaking loose from him that even he couldn’t control.  Jehan held and petted and soothed, whispering whatever calming nonsense came to mind.

This just happened sometimes.  The pressure of their ridiculous schedules, the weight of having the lives of others in your hands, the constant adrenaline surge of emergency rotations… they all took their toll.  Tonight it was Combeferre.  Three weeks ago it had been Jehan.  Combeferre would speak to him about what had set him off, if he could… or he wouldn’t.  It didn’t matter.  What mattered was this.  Right here.  Right now.  Jehan tightened his hold.  

After another few minutes, Combeferre’s tears trailed off into a last few hiccuping sobs, then ceased altogether.  A few minutes after that, he spoke, still hoarse from the force of his crying.  “I blew three *fucking* veins trying to place an IV.  *Three*.  And then the catheter kinked and wouldn’t flow and I had to do it, *again*.  I swear if it hadn’t been an 8 year old kid I was fucking up on, the residents would have been laughing their heads off at me.  They probably were as soon as they got out of sight.”  There was a slight pause, then Combeferre continued, his voice now a distraught wail.  “I made a little kid cry, Jehan.  What kind of incompetant moron does that?”

No hesitation.  “You’re not incompetant and you’re not a moron and kids veins are squirrely as hell, especially when they’re dehydrated, but…”

Combeferre twisted around to look at Jehan, an eyebrow raised.  “…but?”

“…but the residents probably did laugh at you.  I think it makes them feel better when someone as brilliant as you screws up.  It doesn’t happen often and it makes them feel less insecure.”  At Combeferre’s snort, Jehan smiled.  “I’m not kidding!  You’re a better doctor than most of them already and you’re only a fourth year student.  You give them performance anxiety.”

At that, Combeferre finally smiled in response, a brief laugh escaping as he turned away.  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Of course, I am, but that doesn’t make it a lie!”

Combeferre allowed himself to snuggle back against Jehan for another few minutes before finally sighing and sitting up to rub at his eyes.  When Jehan sat up, too, Combeferre pressed his head briefly against Jehan’s shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

Jehan smiled and leaned over to press a brief kiss against Combeferre’s temple.  “Any time, Combeferre.  Any time.”

For the nonsexual intimacy meme: Jehan and Grantaire ♥:Reacting to the other one crying about something :)

Oops.  Sorry, @kingesstropolis​, this ran away with me a little.  ;D

If anyone else wants to send prompts, feel free!


Jehan paused in the hallway, poised to open the door to his room.  That noise…  Turning away from his own door, he edged down the hall towards Grantaire’s.  As he edged closer, the sound of someone softly sobbing became unmistakable.  He hesitated, torn between the need to help and the need to leave Grantaire his privacy, but in the end, he knocked quietly on the door.

The sounds of crying immediately ceased.

Not to be put off by Grantaire playing turtle, Jehan knocked again.  “R… I know you’re in there.  I can hear you.  Is everything all right?”

A creak of bedsprings then, and a quickly muffled curse.  Jehan waited, heart in his throat, for Grantaire’s answer.  Grantaire’s voice, when it finally came, was thick with those tears that had stopped so precipitously upon Jehan’s knock.  “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fi—“

A rise in pitch now, a hint of frantic desperation around the edges.  “Really, Jehan, I’m fine.  Just… it’s nothing, OK?”

Not one to be deterred, especially when he hadn’t been asked to leave, Jehan squared his shoulders.  “I’m coming in, R.  If you don’t want me there, now’s the time to get up and lock the door.”  When a count of twenty had passed with no sounds of movement from inside Grantaire’s room, Jehan slowly pushed open the door.  The sight that met his eyes was… not the one which had been expected.

Grantaire was curled up in the corner of his bed, the stuffed manatee that had been a gift from Jehan clutched to his chest, and the light from his laptop monitor throwing the tears tracks on his cheeks into glistening relief.  Jehan edged closer, easing around to see what Grantaire had seen that had made him so upset.

The computer was paused on a Youtube video, “Homeward Bound : The Incredible Journey (partial ending).”  In the frame was an American Bulldog, hunched over and peering through broken wooden slats at the top of a muddy embankment.  Jehan jerked back, then reached out to cuff Grantaire on the back of the head.  “R!  You know better!”

Grantaire cringed, arms already lifted to cover his head.  “I know, I know!  I’m sorry.  I was watching kitten videos and I got sucked into a Youtube spiral and, the next thing I knew, I was here!  I swear, I didn’t leave you out on purpose!”

Jehan crossed his arms over his chest, a tight scowl on his face as he stared down at Grantaire’s cringing form.  Finally, he shook his head and said, “Fine.  If we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do it right.  I’ll go get the DVD and you make the popcorn.”

An hour later when Feuilly returned home, it was to find both of his roommates curled up on the living room couch, clutching their favorite stuffed animals, and sobbing like they were at the funeral of a beloved friend.  He didn’t even have to look to know what would be playing on the TV.  With a fond smile and a roll of his eyes, he simply climbed over the back of the couch and settled in between them, resigned to the wet shirt he would end up with when Jehan and Grantaire got done with him.  After all… what were friends for?

To Live, Dying

Inspired by this gifset made by @and-thesunwillrise, I wrote this about 3 years ago, but I think it’s rather appropriate for Barricade Day, so… ^_^  Also, I never made an actual fic post for it, and I figured it was about time.

To Live, Dying (2284 words) by eirenical

Once the others had gone, the Captain finally moved, stepped over the bodies in the center of the room without even a passing glance. He knew them all. He knew their names, their faces, their habits and vices. He knew their loves and their hopes, their dreams for a brighter tomorrow – a tomorrow which would never come. Not in their lifetimes.

June 6th. It always came back to June 6th.

Read on AO3
Read on ff.net

August 21, 2013: I realize I only just posted Chapter 10 of FYFM. But this plot bunny grabbed hold of me a few days ago and just wouldn’t let me go until I’d satisfied it. It all started with this gifset. And-thesunwillrise made this amazing thing based off the fact that Hadley Fraser played both the Army Officer (whom I have given the name “Captain Durand” for the duration of this fic, because I don’t believe he has a canon name) in the LM movie and Grantaire in the LM 25th Anniversary Concert. The gifset layers the incredibly tender moment between Hadley!R and Ramin!Enjolras from Drink With Me over the moment when Hadley!Army Officer executes George!R and Aaron!Enjolras… which immediately made me want time loop fic of some kind.

…and here it is. *sheepish grin* That, uh… didn’t take long, did it? -.-;;;

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Les Misérables – All Media Types, Les Misérables – Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables (2012)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire, Enjolras (Tveit)/Grantaire (Blagden), Enjolras (Karimloo)/Grantaire (Fraser)
Characters: Grantaire (Les Misérables), Grantaire (Fraser), Army Officer (Les Miserables), Enjolras (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Karimloo), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables), Joly (Les Misérables), Enjolras (Tveit), Grantaire (Blagden), Death – Character
Additional Tags: Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Supernatural Elements, Death, Multiverse, Doomed Relationship, Heavy Angst, Angst, Personified Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, …sort of

Follow You, Follow Me (103393 words) — Chapter 19

As Enjolras moved, Grantaire got up from the couch and sat on the coffee table.  By the time Enjolras got himself into a sitting position, words were coming more easily, but his voice, when it emerged, was rough, like he’d smoked a few too many cigarettes.  “You came.”

Another soft smile.  “What are friends for?”

“Is that what we are?”

Grantaire’s smile fell.

Read on AO3: [1–one] … [18–eighteen] [19–nineteen]
Read on ff.net: [1–one] … [18–eighteen] [19–nineteen]

March 26, 2016: It’s been TWO DAYS SHY OF A YEAR.  *hangs head in shame*  But I’m about to have a super, super awful day, and for some reason that gave me the impetus I needed to finally finish this chapter.  I’m so, so sorry for the wait.  But I appreciate the patience of every single one of you who’s still following this story.

…no pun intended.  ^_~