I finally wrote a canon era Les Mis fic that doesn't have a ridiculous premise (see Bieber Fever for more details on my ridiculousness). I'm very proud of myself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis.
The wind was biting. Feuilly turned up his collar against it, not that it did much good. His coat was so threadbare that it barely provided any protection against the elements, no matter how much he huddled into it. At least it's not snowing, he thought wryly. That had happened before, and it was even more miserable to deal with the snow when it came to his thin clothes and cold lodgings.
As Feuilly reached the aforesaid lodgings, he was surprised and a bit on edge when he noticed a light coming from his window. He lived alone - it was too small a place not to live alone - so there shouldn't have been anyone in at the moment. The light was small enough to be a candle, so at least whoever was in there wasn't using up the coal he had bought so dearly. If they were a robber, Feuilly knew they'd find nothing. What he was afraid of was someone coming after him to get to Les Amis, which was a distinct possibility. He had more to lose than many of the others, considering he didn't have any sort of family wealth to fall back on. If he were to lose his job, especially in the winter, he might not be able to recover.
Feuilly tensed as he made his way up the creaking stairs. He was strong, thanks to years of physical labor before he got his job painting fans. As long as his adversary was unarmed, he believed he'd be able to beat them. He hoped.
The door approached. Feuilly was ready to fight. He reached out, turned the doorknob…
And inside was Bahorel.
"Bahorel?" Feuilly asked in a slightly dazed voice. Bahorel looked over. He was shivering slightly.
"By God, Feuilly, your quarters may as well be an icebox!" he cried. Feuilly didn't take off his coat - he'd freeze without it - but he did step into the house. "How do you survive?"
"I manage," Feuilly replied, his voice a bit stiff. He didn't like being called out on his lack of funds and Spartan quarters. Bahorel didn't drop the topic, however.
"This cannot be healthy. Imagine how distressed Joly would be if he found that you lived in such temperatures!"
"Is there a reason for your visit, Bahorel?" Feuilly asked harshly. Bahorel either didn't notice the tone, or he ignored it. Feuilly rather suspected the latter.
"Well, my original purpose was to bring you out for a night of drinking and debauchery. But I have changed my mind. Feuilly, pack your things."
"What in God's name are you planning?" Feuilly demanded, not moving to do so. Bahorel grinned.
"If you stay here, you will freeze or catch your death of illness. You must lodge with me."
"Pardon?" Feuilly spluttered. Bahorel had a wide smile on his face, not seeming to understand the problem with the potential arrangement.
"Yes. It's the only solution. You cannot remain here, not during the heart of winter. My lodgings are big enough for two. You must stay with me, at least until the weather eases."
"Bahorel, I can't," Feuilly replied, despite how tempting the offer was. "I could not possibly afford your rent."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of making you pay rent, mon ami!" Bahorel replied. It was the wrong thing to say. Feuilly went stiff.
"I am not a charity case, Bahorel," he replied tensely. Bahorel realized what he had said and how it had been taken. He was quick to try and rectify it.
"I-I do not mean to suggest that," he replied, stumbling over his words a bit. "It's just that I can afford the rent on my own, and I have more than enough space, and I dislike living alone. I thought perhaps you could help me fix that."
Feuilly looked down at his feet, mollified. "Are you sure you have enough room?" he asked. Bahorel beamed.
"Quite sure. Now, pack your things and follow me!"
Quickly, not quite daring to believe this stroke of luck, Feuilly grabbed a bag and began to stuff his meager possessions inside. Bahorel began looking around his quarters as he did so.
"I should like to buy this coal from you," he announced as Feuilly emptied his small bookcase into the bag. "If we are to room together, you shall not have need of it. However, I shall require coal to warm our lodgings. Thus, I ought to buy your coal."
"Oh." Feuilly wasn't quite sure he understood Bahorel's logic, but he went along with it anyway. "I could give you the coal, in recompense for your generosity."
"I would not hear of it," Bahorel replied sternly. "I shall buy this coal, as I would from any other man. Tell me, how much did you pay for it?"
"Three francs," Feuilly replied, his voice quiet. It was as much as he made in a day. He had gone without lunch for two days to put aside the money to pay for it.
"Why, Feuilly, you positively swindled the poor salesman!" Bahorel cried.
"I did no such thing," Feuilly protested, immediately defensive. Bahorel sighed, shaking his head.
"It would be robbery to give you anything less than five francs for this coal," he added, pulling out the money as he said it. Feuilly's eyes went wide.
"Bahorel!" he gasped. Bahorel was being ridiculous; the coal would not be worth five francs under any circumstances. "I cannot accept that!"
"I insist," Bahorel replied. He had already picked up the bucket of coal and was holding the five franc piece towards Feuilly. "I would not rob you of the coal I'm certain you worked hard to afford."
"You're being ridiculous," Feuilly muttered, ignoring the tempting offer and putting his clothes in the bag. Bahorel sighed.
"Feuilly, please take it," he said softly. "If you do not, I shall throw it into the Seine."
"You would not," Feuilly replied, turning. Bahorel smiled and held out the five franc piece again. Feuilly sighed and accepted it, tucking it into the small purse in which he held whatever money he had. The five francs more than doubled what was in there.
"Shall we be off to my lodgings, then?" Bahorel asked as Feuilly checked his quarters for any possessions he had missed. "Do you have need to speak to your landlord?"
"Landlady," Feuilly corrected absently. "And yes, I ought to inform her that I am leaving. You have caught me on the best day to do so. My rent for the past week was due today, so I may leave with ease."
"How much is your rent?" Bahorel asked, his fingers going towards his purse. Feuilly shook his head.
"I shall not allow you to pay, Bahorel. After all, I have already done so. All I must do is inform Mme Desjardin that I shall not be staying through the winter, then we may leave."
"You may stay in my lodgings when the weather has grown warmer as well," Bahorel offered as he and Feuilly went downstairs to Mme Desjardin's room. "I will force you to remain with me until winter is over, but you need not leave until you so desire."
"I would not wish to take advantage of your generosity," Feuilly replied. He stepped into Mme Desjardin's room before Bahorel could argue.
"Bonsoir, madame," he called as he entered.
"Yes?" Mme Desjardin asked, looking up from her books. "Oh, Feuilly! A young man came to me but a quarter of an hour ago, wishing to enter your rooms. I've seen the two of you together before, so I assumed he truly was your friend. I hope I was not amiss."
"No, madame, you were not," Feuilly replied, smiling slightly. "Bahorel is a good friend of mine. I'm afraid he is the reason I am visiting you tonight. I shall be lodging with him through the winter."
"Very well," Mme Desjardin replied, reaching for a piece of paper. "Will you be returning in the spring?"
"Perhaps," Feuilly replied, deciding to keep his options open. "I should think I will. Bahorel is not so convinced as I, however."
"I'm sure you'll do what you feel to be right," Mme Desjardin replied, patting Feuilly's cheek gently. "Now, off with you. Go out with your friend."
"Thank you for all you have done for me, madame," Feuilly replied, bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to Mme Desjardin's hand. She smiled and shooed him away.
"Off with you," she repeated. Feuilly bowed slightly and stepped out of the room. Bahorel was waiting impatiently outside.
"Shall we be off, then?" he asked. Feuilly smiled.
"We shall," he replied. Bahorel strode off immediately, Feuilly walking half a step behind. Bahorel's lodgings were close, but even the short time in the cold made Feuilly's body freeze. But when they entered the lodgings, a fire was blazing in the hearth and Feuilly could not help but groan in ecstasy at the heat. Bahorel's lips twitched in a tiny smile.
"I think we shall get along together well, you and I," he told Feuilly as he sprawled across his couch. "I have an extra mattress on which you may sleep. Now sit down. Have you eaten?"
"No," Feuilly admitted. Bahorel nodded, searching through a cabinet. He pulled out a loaf of bread and tore off a sizeable chunk, tossing it to Feuilly.
"Are you going to feed me as well as shelter me?" Feuilly joked. Bahorel grinned.
"You're far too thin," he teased in reply. "If you will not eat yourself, I will do what I must."
"You are already doing far more than you must," Feuilly replied, suddenly serious. "Thank you, Bahorel."
"It is nothing I would not do for any friend," Bahorel replied easily. "Think not of it. Now, a night of drinking and debauchery is still possible, if you so wish. Shall we go to the Corinthe?"
Feuilly smiled widely. "A night of drinking and debauchery sounds wonderful to me, Bahorel. Let us go."
Bahorel held the door open for Feuilly, and as he stepped through it, Feuilly thought it was strange that he had already labeled Bahorel's lodgings as the first home he had ever truly had.