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“I actually think I prefer Jack Nicholson’s interpretation.”
“No you don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“No one prefers that. And no one can just say that and mean it. Heath Ledger was inspired, flawless. No one has ever been as good and no one will ever be better.”
“I can see where you’re coming from, but hear me out. I think Heath Ledger was perfect in his interpretation of the character; he was manic and you know, really evil. I just think that Jack Nicholson was scarier. He was more like a clown, less motivated by evil and more by the fact that he was just ape-shit crazy. To me that’s scarier than true evil because it’s more possible. It’s more likely for someone to be driven crazy by this world than to just be pure evil. Heath Ledger was pure chaotic evil, you couldn’t track him or expect what he would do next. Jack Nicholson was more human and thus his version of the villain is scarier.”
“Making him more human makes him scarier to you?”
“Yeah, because they both do the same level of evil but one does it with more relatable motivations and that scares me.”
“Huh. I disagree.”
“Well, to each his own.”
“This doesn’t sound like studying.” Enjolras said, alerting Grantaire and Courfeyrac to his presence.
“Shit, Enj, how long have you been standing there?” Courfeyrac asked, looking up to see Enjolras, seeming rather unimpressed and standing in the doorway.
“Long enough to now be conflicted about my favorite Joker. You make compelling points, Courf.” Enjolras said as he moved over to sit on the couch next to Grantaire, “Also, I brought Chinese food.” He dropped the bag on Courf’s lap and rested his feet on the coffee table.
“You’re an angel.” Grantaire praised, kissing Enjolras cheek once before grabbing a random box and chopsticks.
“It was supposed to be me rewarding my best friend and my boyfriend for studying arduously, but something tells me your Psych final isn’t centered on The Dark Knight?”
“I plead the fifth.” Grantaire mumbled around a mouth of chow mein. Enjolras rolled his eyes and Courfeyrac looked on, completely endeared as Enjolras leaned his head on R’s shoulder and entwined their fingers together.
“This is disgusting,” he sighed, not sounding nearly as put off as the words would imply, “I want love like that.” He pushed Grantaire’s side with his big toe. “Find me love like that!” Courfeyrac demanded. R looked down at Enjolras with a funny look and Enjolras stared back for a long moment.
“No.” He whispered and Grantaire titled his head slightly and then the two proceeded to have their telepathic conversations that only comes from being high school sweethearts.
“Stop doing that. Include me in this conversation.” Courfeyrac whined. Grantaire sighed and turned his head to say something, but was cut off by his phone ringing loudly.
“Oh, speak of the devil.” Grantaire laughed as he pulled out his phone and checked the screen.
“You weren’t ‘speaking’ of anyone! Who were you two ‘speaking’ about?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Enjolras shrugged as Grantaire walked into the hall to take his call. Enjolras started eating some orange chicken, looking much too nonchalant.
“What is going on here?” Courf asked, suspicion rising even more when he heard Grantaire laugh raucously from the hall. “Who is he talking to?”
“It is really none of your business, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras sighed, glaring at Courf in the way that made him temporarily reconsider pushing further. He always did, of course, but it was just effective enough to make him think.
“Enj, he wants to talk to you.” Grantaire said a few minutes later. Enjolras stood up and against all odds looked excited, no, thrilled to be taking the call and Courfeyrac shook his head no.
“Grantaire, what the fuck?” Courf asked as R sat back down on the couch.
“It’s just a friend.” He insisted.
“Have I met said friend?”
“No, you have not.”
“Well, what’s so great about him? Does he go to our university? What’s his name? Whose-”
“Jesus, Courfeyrac, he’s a graduate student; he used to be in the yoga class I teach on Saturdays; he’s friends with Enjolras. And me. That’s all you need to know. Shut the fuck up.”
“I just don’t know why you guys are being all secretive. I mean, he sounds like a fucking riot, if all the laughter is to be believed.” Courf mumbled, one step short of pouting.
“Courf, be quiet. This is your favorite part.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes but relented, laying back on the couch and watching the Joker and Batman dangling off the side of the building, switching up and down and back and forth. A few minutes later, Enjolras came back, curling up next to Grantaire without a word. He tapped his foot a couple times, options running through his head. He could either be silent and enjoy the movie and not risk the wrath of Enjolras, or he could do that opposite. Yeah, that option sounded much more like Courfeyrac.
“So, this ‘friend’-”
“Five minutes! You literally waited only five minutes.” Enjolras snapped.
“I’m surprised he lasted that long, to be honest.” Grantaire laughed, grabbing more of the Chinese food. Courfeyrac turned towards them on the couch, curling his legs crisscrossed.
“So he’s hot?”
“Yes-”
“Grantaire! Do not cave to him.”
“He has to know eventually.”
“Says who?” Enjolras’ last words were cut-off by another phone ringing and Courf threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Why is he calling again? Who does he think he is? We are trying to have an argument here!”
“Courf, that’s your phone.” Grantaire deadpanned. Courf looked down at the table and, yeah, sure enough it was.
“Oh, my bad.” He grabbed the phone and answered the call, seeing it was Marius, “Marius, my love, what can I do for you today?”
“Don’t call me that, Courf. You know that’s what Cosette calls me.”
“Are you saying Cosette is more important to you than me?”
“Yes. Wait! No, I… Um?”
“Don’t answer that! Answer me this instead. Who is tall and handsome and funny and in Grantaire’s yoga class?”
“Are you talking about Combeferre? Did Enjolras finally let you-” Enjolras grabbed the phone from Courf and hung up angrily before tossing it across the room.
“Dammit Marius!”
“He can’t hear you Enj.” Courf said serenely, “You hung up on him.” He gestured to the phone, to lying helplessly in front of the bedroom door and Enjolras grumbled. “So, tell me more about this Combeferre. Sounds sexy.”
“You cannot meet him, Courf!”
“Why not?!” Enjolras just stared back at him, stalwart, so Courfeyrac turned to Grantaire.
“You remember that episode of Friends where Monica and Chandler don’t let Joey around the hot nanny?” Courfeyrac just stared at them.
“Wait, holy fuck, Enjolras is Monica? That’s perfect. I can’t believe this never occurred to me; you are so Chandler and Monica. Enjolras even used to be fat!”
“You’re missing the point here-”
“Oh! Oh. You think I’m going to fuck your hot nanny?” Courf asked incredulously. Grantaire laughed and Enjolras grumbled, crossing his arms and moving slightly out of the curve of Grantaire’s arms.
“Combeferre is not our nanny, but more or less, yes.”
“Enjolras, thinks so.” Both of them said at the same time. Enjolras and Courf looked up at Grantaire a little confused.
“You don’t think so?”
“Not particularly.”
“Why not?” Grantaire sighed dramatically and sat up straighter.
“Well, Combeferre is like… at the risk of sounding like a thirteen year old girl, he’s probably the coolest guy I have ever met. I’m 99% sure he is miles out of your league.” He said with a shrug. Enjolras stifled a giggle and Courfeyrac guffawed, slightly offended.
“What is so funny?” R asked Enjolras, who was staring up at him and smiling widely.
“Nothing.” Enjolras said, sounding very happy, “It’s just fun when you’re so wrong.”
“I’m not wrong.” Grantaire replied. “Courfeyrac may be attractive, I suppose,” Courfeyrac scoffed loudly but Grantaire ignored it, “But look at him closely. He’s a giant fucking dork. Combeferre-”
“Would fucking love that.” Enjolras argued. “I’ve known Courfeyrac since the eighth grade. He’s a catch. Combeferre would see past … everything else.”
“It’s pretty hard to see past that.” Grantaire said laughingly, gesturing towards Courf. He looked down at his sunflower jacket and green skinny jeans.
“What? I think this looks good.”
“Yeah, if you’re courting Jehan. Or a bumblebee.” Grantaire teased.
“You would be lucky to be with Jehan.” Courfeyrac retorted and Grantaire raised his hands in mock surrender.
“I’m not saying Jehan isn’t badass. I’m just saying that I don’t think a man with more product in his hair than Cosette and more air heads in his wallet than money could score Combeferre.”
“I resent that. Enjolras! Introduce me to Combeferre so we can prove Grantaire wrong!” Enjolras looked momentarily tempted by that proposition, but in the end he shook his head and relaxed back into Grantaire’s arms, much to R’s satisfaction.
“No.”
“Fine. Fine! Be that way; I don’t care… But mark my words, you’ll regret this. Yoooou’ll regret this. The Princess and the Stable Boy will find love.”
###
Combeferre sat down with a huff, thanking whatever god was listening that he finally got his break. His feet were aching and his throat was a little sore after giving a fourth grade class a tour of the planetarium.
Sitting down at one of the benches outside, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He smiled at the snapchat video he had from Eponine and Marius, the boy blushing and laughing as Eponine kissed his cheek. He could hear Cosette murmuring in the background and felt a rush of fondness. He’d only known this group of people for a little under a year but they were already among his favorite in the world.
He lifted his phone to take a picture of his surroundings, rarely one to actually show his face in pictures for whatever reason, and also the view was pretty nice, and it was then he noticed that someone was staring at him pretty obviously from a few feet away at another bench. Combeferre raised an eyebrow and looked over at the man who made a frantic move to raise the newspaper (newspaper? Really? Who reads a newspaper at a planetarium? Did he think that looked organic?) he had over his eyes. Combeferre huffed out a laugh, thinking that this guy would make a really shit spy.
Combeferre considered going over to talk to him, just confronting him and getting it over with, but something told him to wait it out, see what else the guy would do. So instead he grabbed his mango out of his bag and took a big bite, pretending not to notice as the guy peeked over the edge of his newspaper again.
He stared at his stalker through his periphery and was surprised to find he was actually really cute, if not Combeferre’s usual type (he sort of looked like a fairy? Black curly hair and pale white skin. Oh and it was especially weird that the creeper was literally wearing all black; black skinny jeans, black beanie and black Ray-Bans, black combat boots, a long black trench coat… why). After a long moment of resting his feet and trying desperately not to laugh as Cute Stalker kept staring at him in gradually lessening levels of suave, Combeferre stood up casually and began to walk back inside.
“You know, if you wanted to stare at me some more you could just go on the next tour.”
The guy continued staring at the newspaper, brow furrowed, as if totally engrossed.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just reading the funnies.” Combeferre rolled his eyes and started walking away again.
“And you thought the best place to do that was in the middle of the planetarium? Which cost $10 to get in? Whatever you say, pal.”
###
Courfeyrac let out a big sigh as Combeferre walked away, dramatically relaxing back into his chair. The fucker really was hot. So maybe his skin looked warm and smooth like honey and maybe his eyes were the truest color of dark brown Courf had ever seen and maybe, yes, his hair was somehow fluffy and styled without looking like it was stuffed full of product, but Courfeyrac hardly thought he was “out of his league”. For fuck’s sake, the guy was wearing a t shirt that had the asteroid belt on it and said “Asteroids ROCK.” Also, khakis? Really. Courfeyrac was hardly intimidated. So he stood up and decided to go on this tour, because Combeferre threw the challenge out there and he wasn’t just going to let that lie.
“Is this supposed to be any good?”
The kid next to Courf looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I don’t know. I’m 11.”
Courfeyrac just nodded. “That’s okay. We’ve all been there before. It’ll pass.”
Courf quieted as Combeferre took his place at the head of the group. Combeferre caught his eye for a moment before Courfeyrac snatched up a pamphlet and moved it to cover most of his face, just his eyes peeking over the edge of it. Combeferre bit back a smile before addressing the group as a whole, beginning the tour.
Courf was in.
###
Courfeyrac watched as Combeferre waved off the group to a round of applause about as rousing as you could expect in a planetarium. He ruffled Kyle’s hair.
“Don’t change kid. 11 goes by fast.”
“Bye Courf!” Kyle smiled brightly up at him.
“Hey, you stick with that pre-algebra,” he called out as Kyle ran off to his dad, “I believe in you!”
Courfeyrac smiled, then adjusted his ray bans, re-focusing on the task at hand. He spotted Combeferre with his back turned to him, talking with another employee, this one wearing a tshirt with the earth cradling a very uncomfortable-looking moon, saying, “I want to know everything about you.” Courfeyrac sidled over casually and sat down on a bench about three feet from where they were standing, settling down to eavesdrop.
“Yeah, I know, it’s been crazy busy today,” the red-headed girl Combeferre was talking to lamented, leaning against the dark blue wall. “What’s getting everyone so into astronomy all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a nice change,” Combeferre answered.
“So are you guys pretty swamped on the ground floor too?”
“We’ve had a few new faces today, yeah.”
“Ooh, anybody interesting?”
“By interesting do you mean attractive?”
“Come on, Ferre,” redhead teased, “ you know that’s exactly what I mean. How many people fell in love with you today, Mr. Handsome Graduate Student?”
“Well, there was one girl this morning, about eight, who invited me to her birthday next week.”
“Awww, how cute!” Courfeyrac concurred.
“And there was this guy-”
“Cute?”
“I think he’s still here. Don’t look, he’s probably looking at us right now. Seems to be his thing.”
“Well at least tell me what he looks like.”
“He looks like...this is going to sound dumb, but when I first saw him I thought ‘fairy boy.’”
Courfeyrac’s shoulders slumped. Well that was unexpected. And immensely disappointing.
“Oh, shit, wait that sounded bad, didn’t it? No, I don’t mean like that, I mean. He looks like a fairy or a nymph or something mythological. I can vividly picture him living in the fucking woods or some shit, bringing joy to animals and making flowers grow just by smiling at them. He’s enchanting.”
Now that was more like it.
“I mean he’s also a huge dork.”
“Ah, so he’s perfect is what you’re saying.”
“Yeah,” Courf chimed in, “that’s what I’m getting from this whole conversation.”
Courfeyrac saw Combeferre’s head loll back as he let out a sigh.
“So I’m enchanting, huh?” Courfeyrac asked, leaning over the back of the bench with his head in his hands.
Combeferre turned around, arms crossed.
“Just one of many traits I’m sure you possess.”
Combeferre came around and sat next to Courfeyrac, who was still smirking at him triumphantly. For someone who was supposedly “too cool” for him, this was going swimmingly.
“I was a little offended by the whole ‘fairy boy’ thing-”
“Oh, God, did you hear that?” Combeferre asked. “I honestly don’t even know what that was about. I...I just wasn’t thinking. I would never use that as an insult. I am sorry.”
“How ever can you make it up to me?” Courfeyrac once again began leafing through the pamphlet, eyeing Combeferre out of his peripheral.
Combeferre chuckled. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t know that coffee alone can heal this wound in my heart.”
“Well, please then, let me know what it is you want from me.”
“You could walk me around the planetarium,” Courfeyrac suggested, “you know, make it a private tour this time. Really give me my $10 worth.”
“So, just to be clear, the emotional damages I inflicted amount to the cost of cup of coffee plus ten dollars?”
Courfeyrac blinked and Combeferre laughed.
“Come on then,” he held out a hand to help Courfeyrac up.
“Don’t seem so eager, you’ll come off as desperate,” Courfeyrac teased, still sitting.
“Oh, there’s no use trying to put this off,” Combeferre leaned in close to Courfeyrac, his hair brushing against his forehead as he whispered gravely, “I must atone for my sins.” Courfeyrac was speechless for a moment, and Combeferre definitely noticed, smiling smugly as he turned on his heels and headed towards the displays. Courfeyrac used the few seconds he had to catch up with him to remind himself that Combeferre was a huge dork. He could handle this.
“So how did you get this job here?” Courfeyrac asked, making conversation as they moved slowly past numerous displays that he himself was paying very little attention to.
“My uncle is the manager and being a grad student is not cheap, much to no one’s surprise, so he offered me a part-time job.”
“Ooohh, wow. Nepotism at work,” Courfeyrac teased, making Combeferre laugh incredulously, “You know, this job could have gone to someone who actually deserved it.”
“You don’t think I deserved this job?”
“I don’t know. Quick! Prove it! What’s this star?” Courfeyrac asked, pointing to a random display without looking.
“Um, that’s the...that’s the sun. It’s actually a pretty commonly known one-”
“Well, I’m convinced.” They both laughed and Combeferre smiled at Courf fondly, making his heart beat a little bit faster, cheesily enough.
“Courfeyrac… you know, I think I’ve heard that name before…”
“Yes, well, I am very popular.” Courfeyrac scrambled to explain. Combeferre arched one eyebrow, and nodded.
“Really? Well-” He was unfortunately (fortunately) cut-off by the ringing of Courfeyrac’s phone.
“I should really take this.” Combeferre nodded and Courf smiled before answering Grantaire’s call. “Hello… Chandler.” He said, not wanting Combeferre to overhear anything that would give him away just yet, “What’s up, kiddo?”
“Are you with Combeferre?” Grantaire snapped.
“What ever happened to pleasantries? A ‘nothing much Courf, what’s up with you’ would be appreciated, you know.” When Grantaire didn’t reply Courfeyrac sighed dramatically, “Why would you ever think that of me, Chan?”
“Because Enj said you have been texting him suggestively for hours. Are you with him? Or not?”
“No comment. Tell Mon that if she is going to read my texts, she should reply to them. Now I have to go. I have company to entertain. Goodbye.” Courfeyrac abruptly hung up, ignoring the protests he could hear Grantaire shouting. Combeferre looked indifferent, but definitely fighting off signs of amusement.
“Monica and Chandler?”
“They’re good friends of mine.” Courfeyrac deadpanned, smiling a little when Combeferre laughed again. He had a very nice laugh. Not a cool laugh, though. But nice, that he could admit.
“Listen, Courf, I have to get back to work now, but I get off at seven. If I’m reading these signs right, I’m thinking maybe you wanna go get drinks after?”
“Drinks would be nice, yes.” Courfeyrac answered, doing a victory dance on the inside because fuck Grantaire.
###
Courfeyrac was staring at the blank text space, trying to think of something adequately witty and perfect to send to Grantaire and Enjolras in a group text, explaining how much he had beat them in this whole Plan Combeferre. He practically had this in the bag. Combeferre was just a huge, adorable nerd who wore shirts with puns on them and laughed at all of Courfeyrac’s flirting. (And who also gave Courfeyrac butterflies and had a smile that looked like heaven and all of it’s angels had taken the time to bless. Whatever, no big deal. Courf could obviously handle it).
“Oh shit.” Courf muttered, looking up from his phone to see Combeferre walking out to the bench he was sitting on and the bastard was no longer in khakis and a t-shirt. He looked… fucking hot. He was wearing a black leather bomber jacket over a grey sweater, skinny jeans, black combat boots, and tortoise shell glasses. The whole get-up would make Montparnasse salivate. And Courfeyrac, but for much different reason.
“Hey, you ready?” Combeferre asked sweetly, as if he didn’t just go from slightly tilting Courfeyrac’s world to literally toppling it completely.
“Umm, yeah, sure?” Courf stuttered, “Uhh, glasses?” Combeferre looked confused for a second and then smiled blindingly.
“Oh, yeah. I’m very blind. Comes from reading small print too much, so I’m told. I wear contacts during work, though. Before, a very cute little girl asked me if she could wear my pair and of course, I couldn’t refuse that face, so I gave them to her. She promptly broke them in half. So, to avoid that future risk, I force myself to wear contacts.” How. Fucking. Charming.
“That… makes sense.” Courfeyrac managed to say. “Sorry,” he laughed, trying to get a hold of himself, “You just look different from before…”
“What, you thought I always wore dumb t-shirts and khakis?” Combeferre asked incredulously and Courf nodded, sheepish, “Wow. God, no. That’s the uniform but I would never. I promise.” Ferre laughed. “Should we go?” Courfeyrac stood up a little too quickly and nodded.
“Um, is the bar you’re planning on far? Because I didn’t walk here… I mean, wait, I said that wrong. Fuck I didn’t have a car here,- don’t have a car here. I walked, because Bossuet has my car, which in retrospect was a bad idea because he will probably get it towed or drive into a lake or something even though I don’t think there are many lakes in the LA area, but nonetheless-”
“Courf?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re rambling.” Courf snapped his mouth close and bit his lip. Fucking Grantaire and his stupid expectations were getting to his head. Oh and also Combeferre being perfect was getting to his head, because now not only was he funny and smart and seductively nonchalant, he was also fucking gorgeous. “Also, my bike is right here.” And he also had a motorcycle. Courf’s brain literally stopped working for a second.
Courfeyrac followed him for a moment before abruptly stopping in the middle of the empty street.
“Your what?” Combeferre smiled, clearly equally amused and confused.
“My bike.”
“As in your motorcycle?”
“That’s another name for it.”
“…”
“Courf?”
“…”
“You aren’t… scared of motorcycles, are you?” Combeferre asked with concern, making Courf melt even more because oh, he’s a gentleman now, too. And oh no, no Courf wasn’t scared. He was just suddenly flooded with images of Combeferre on a motorcycle, toned arms tense oh and also Combeferre fucking him on that very motorcycle. Holy fuck what was happening.
“No, not at all.” And Courfeyrac’s voice may have squeaked one or two times but neither of them pointed it out as Courf walked past Combeferre and towards the only motorcycle in the parking lot.
Courf may not know a lot about bikes but even he could tell this was a very good looking one, all sleek and black and cool, which is apparently oh-so-very Combeferre.
“Hey, where did your trench coat from before go?” Combeferre asked, looking down at Courfeyrac’s black henley in confusion. This morning wearing all black had seemed like a perfect idea, to encourage espionage. Now he felt a little silly.
“Oh, um, I must’ve left it behind somewhere…” Courf hadn’t realized before, but now the chill seemed to seep into him and he wondered how he could be so stupid.
“Well you can’t ride on here without a coat. You’ll freeze.” So Combeferre, ever the fucking gentleman, shrugged off his leather jacket, but instead of just giving that to Courf, he shed his grey sweater and handed that to him.
“Now you won’t be in all black, at least.” Combeferre teased. Courfeyrac took the offering and it would’ve made him blush if he wasn’t completely distracted because the white undershirt revealed his tattoos. So many tattoos. Now Courfeyrac’s mouth really was watering.
“So, Combeferre.” Courfeyrac mused, sounding much more nonchalant than he felt as he pulled the sweater over his head and revelled in the warmth and being wrapped in what was once wrapped around Combeferre. The man looked at him expectantly, “How do you feel about sex on a motorcycle?” Combeferre stared at him for a long moment before barking out a laugh.
“On mine? Or someone else’s?” Combeferre teased, “But no, I think that’s more of a third or fourth date kind of thing. How about you?” He handed Courfeyrac a helmet from the back of the bike and then promptly swung his leg over the side, hands gripping the handlebars.
“It’s most definitely a first date thing.” Courf answered, only a little breathless. Combeferre laughed and reached out a hand, pulling Courf next to him.
“Drinks first.” He whispered, leaning in close so his lips brushed Courf’s as he spoke. Courfeyrac’s knees almost went weak at the heat of his proximity, but Combeferre quickly pulled back and placed the helmet firmly over Courf’s head. Courfeyrac sighed and shook his head before happily swinging on to the back of the bike himself, wrapping his arms tightly around Combeferre’s waist.
“Onward good sir!” Courf shouted.
“You are such a dork.” Combeferre mumbled before revving the engine and driving off.