“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. 



Enjolras and Feuilly aren’t Disney guys but by the end of Newsies they are sobbing and holding each other.

I’m pretty much always up for sick!fic or hurt/comfort. ^_^ And I’m kind of in the mood for some with Courfeyrac on the being comforted end with Enjolras / Feuilly / Combeferre / Comfort-giver of your choice? ^_^


I looove h/c you know I do. 😉

“No..!” Courfeyrac whined through his painfully rough throat, watching from the couch as Combeferre began unbuttoning his coat. “No. You’re not staying. Go, please. Pretty please?”

Combeferre stared down at him, unimpressed.

“I am staying, though. I’m going to take care of you,” he said it like he said everything else; as if it was fact, pure and simple fact, and he was slightly shocked, if not offended, that Courfeyrac would even doubt it.

Courfeyrac shook his head as much as his sore muscles and his position, lying on his side, would allow. It hurt, and he felt sick. He could breathe easier now, but his limbs felt like lead and his heart like a heavy, ugly stone between his ribs. He knew it would feel this way for at least a couple of days, days he’d rather spend sleeping, hiding from the world, pretending he didn’t have to exist. He didn’t feel like arguing. He especially didn’t feel like arguing with Combeferre.

“You’ve been looking forward to this for weeks,” Courfeyrac murmured, trying to will his eyes dry so he could meet his friend’s gaze. “Go and enjoy it. Please. For me?”

His begging – his sad, pathetic begging – had no effect.

“I’d rather spend the night with you,” Combeferre said, voice soft and steady and utterly devoid of bitterness.

To be honest, Courfeyrac didn’t want to be alone either. it was a miracle Combeferre had decided to drop by before going to his show, because Courfeyrac didn’t think he had the energy to text – much less call – anyone else. But still. He couldn’t reconciliate keeping his friend from his plans, not at the last minute like this, not for something as useless and pathetic-

“You shouldn’t,” he laughed desperately, trying to sound a least close to normal. It didn’t work; a tear escaped from behind his eye and ran down his cheek, and his voice broke. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the way he knew Combeferre would look at him. “I’m no fun at all like this.”

He felt the cushion of the couch dip as Combeferre sat down next to him. Good, Courfeyrac thought. Maybe the cushion would keep dipping and dipping and swallow him whole until he could feel nothing and be nothing-

Warm, dry fingers started threading through his hair, gently messaging his scalp.

“I don’t care,” Combeferre’s tone was as steady and no-nonsense as ever and Courfeyrac felt himself tear up again. “Courfeyrac. I really don’t care. I’m not your friend because you’re fun. Which you are, of course. But you being fun is not a condition for my friendship. It’s not why I love you. It’s not why we all love you.”

When Courfeyrac failed to respond after a moment, he continued, still running his long fingers through the dark curls.

“We love you because you’re you, Courfeyrac. You, as a person. Because you’re generous, and kind, and warm. Because you’re impulsive and stubborn, because you give us everything to make sure we’re happy, even when you aren’t happy yourself,” he reached down to kiss Courfeyrac’s cheek. “We love you for who you are, everything, good and bad. Alright? So I can leave you be tonight, if you’d rather be alone. But a night spent with you, especially when you need it, is never wasted. You’re never a waste of time. Never.”

“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac was crying in earnest now, hiding his face against Combeferre’s leg. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Courfeyrac could feel Combeferre’s smile, the quiet warmth radiating off it.

“Yeah. Yeah, please.”

“Good,” Combeferre squeezed his shoulder. “We can order something to eat then we can watch a DVD, would you like that?”

“I’d love that.”


This is so perfect and it’s exactly what I was looking for and you are the BEST.  ^____________^  That is so nice of Combeferre to stay and so perfectly Courfeyrac to try to get him to leave anyway.  And just… OH COURFEYRAC.  TT^TT  Always thinking of everyone else before himself and I CAN’T.

This is lovely and I wish I was more coherent but I LIKE THIS VERY MUCH, THANK YOU.  ^_____________^