great things about enjolras knowing both of his best friends are hopelessly in love with each other yet for some reason refuse to admit it to the other one and live happily ever after:
- combeferre leaving the room and enjolras heaving an immediate sigh because he can feel the five minute long stream of high pitched whining noises about to come from courf before courf can even open his mouth
- the daily routine of ferre saying “he’s never going to feel the same way” and enjolras’ deadpan reply of “right. of course. you’re only his favorite person on the planet. it’s not like he can’t sleep without hearing you say goodnight or anything. it’s not like he refuses to watch certain movies when you’re out of town because they’re ‘your thing’. it’s not like he calls you ‘mi cariño’ literally all the time. no yeah. you’re right. he practically hates you.” and cue ferre staring at him for ten minutes straight. every. single. day.
- enjolras resorting to drastic seasonal measures when christmas rolls around by physically attempting to shove ferre and courf together beneath the mistletoe
- enjolras coming home to find courf and ferre cuddled up together on the couch or laughing way too hard over some stupid video game or cooking and half dancing together while making dinner in the kitchen and remembering why it is he hates them so much for being so blind so so so so terribly, devastatingly blind and he’s not seventeen magazine why can’t they just get it together on their own
So this happened and I’m not over it
Enjolras: Did you bring homemade sweets to the barricade?
Courfeyrac: Yes! I made a marshmallow Enjolras. See? His arms are crossed because he’s mad at all the other marshmallow revolutionaries for annoying him. You like it?
Enjolras: [voice breaks] It’s nice.
The Millennium Falcon was the first thing we were actually building. I had been in London and I came home back to L.A. for Christmas. So I go to Sports Chalet to do some last-minute shopping; I get there early, run to the back of the store, get what I need. I’m coming back through the store, and I just happen to pass this person holding up a pair of ski pants, and it’s Harrison Ford. I look at him, he looks at me and puts his head right down. I can tell he doesn’t want to be bothered; I’m sure from the look on my face he knew I knew who he was. So I walk past him, and after about 10 feet I think, ‘If there’s ever a time to say hello to Harrison Ford, I’m building the Millennium Falcon!’ So I turn around very hesitantly and go, ‘Harrison, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m co-production designer on the new Star Wars, I’m just back from London, and I’ve been building the Falcon.’ A big smile came across his face, he put his hand out, and we had such a great conversation — he couldn’t have been sweeter. As I’m walking away, he goes, ‘Darren!’ and calls me back. He goes, ‘The toggle switches.’ I go, ‘Toggle switches.’ He goes, ‘The toggle switches on the Falcon. When they built it the first time, they bought cheap toggle switches without any springs in them. Every time I threw a toggle switch, it fell back; it wouldn’t hold. It drove me crazy. Please, make sure the toggle switches are fixed this time.’ I go, ‘No problem! I’ll take care of it!’ So months go by, I’m back in London, we’re getting close [to principal photography], and I get a phone call saying J.J.’s headed down to check out the cockpit, and Harrison’s with him. I run down there and I see J.J. in the passenger seat and Harrison in the pilot seat. They’re just giddy; they’re having so much fun. And then I see Harrison look up, and he just starts throwing all the toggle switches: boom, boom, boom, boom. [Laughs.] And I remember thinking, ‘Phew, minor victory. Take solace in that and move on. Next task.’ That’s my favorite story.
They’re neighbours and haven’t properly met. One day, Courf comes home devastated because of a bad date and cries for hours against his wall, until a little knock at the door makes him open it, just to find that
stupidly hotneighbour handing him biscuits very awkwardly and muttering “I heard you weren’t OK so… you know…” and it’s just too much to handle for poor little Courf’s heart. As soon as he has taken the biscuits, Ferre disappears in his own apartment because this nerd is so ridiculously shy.
Anyway, the biscuits make Courf feel a lot better and on the next day, he passes a note under Ferre’s door to thank him. Ferre answers the same way, and they spend an awful lot of time communicating together like this, until they give each other their phone number, and until they finally decide to have a proper dinner together
even if they’re too … blind to realize it’s an actual fucking date.
Do not mock Courf for spending 4 hours choosing his outfit, because Ferre needed 7.
Absolute fluff ensues.