A/N: A shot at a modern AU of Jehan/Courfeyrac. Nothing more than a little drabble based on a photo of a bike. I do not own the image ( photos/chrisabird/6086428315/) or any characters of Les Mis, they belong to Victor Hugo.
Jehan owns a bicycle.
It's a terribly ugly thing, and Courfeyrac never fails to remind him of it. "Taking the rag-tag tricycle out again, are we?" He teases, bopping Jehan on the nose when he gives a little frown. "Oh come on, Prouvaire, you can't deny that it's hideous. It really is."
"I think it's beautiful." Jehan purses his lips. It doesn't surprise him, he and Jehan have different versions of beautiful. Jehan thought the first breath of winter was beautiful- Courfeyrac thought it was freezing cold, especially in his plaid shirt and slippers. He pressed hasty kisses and mumbled complaints into the column of his lover's neck until Jehan took pity on him and brought him back inside.
" It's falling apart! You need a new one. Come on, it's time you at least got a bus pass. You really don't need to bike everywhere." Courfeyrac tried. He knew Jehan- he would not "conform to the responsibilities of driving whilst being surrounded by recklessness".
"No, Courf. I don't want a bus pass. I don't want a new bike." Jehan mumbled, turning his attention back to the travel mug he was pouring. "I don't need either. I love mine."
"But one day the seat's going to fall off and who knows how you'll end up? It's not safe, what is wrapped around it? Is that fabric?" He peered through the window to where the bicycle was propped up against Jehan's black fence. "Joly would not approve, nor would he treat your injuries after that thing causes a crash. We'll go down to that store where Marius got Cosette that one, remember?" Of course he remembers, Jehan thinks. That bike was some ugly shade of mint green with a basket and wasn't Cosette just so incredibly delighted and in love when Marius showed it to her?
"I don't want a new bike." When Jehan repeats it again, there's the slightest hint of steel in his voice and his hands still. He presses them against the counter and speaks again, softer this time. "That fabric on the seat is the t-shirt I wore on our first date, the one that you spilled coffee on because you were so nervous. The pom-poms are from when Eponine decided to take up knitting and made that ridiculous scarf for Marius- and it was so ugly he gave it to me, said that "only Prouvaire would wear it". And he was right, I wore that thing until it stretched out down to the ground. "
Courfeyrac opened his mouth to speak, but Jehan continued on. "That flag near the pedals? That's Enjolras', from high school when he was forced to give a presentation on the Paris Uprising of 1832. That's how he found his passion. The gingham fabric is Cosette's, from her handkerchief that she gave Marius when he couldn't stop sneezing at that first damn meeting at Musain." He took a deep breath, raising his eyes. "It was washed first, of course...
"Those little coins are those pressed pennies that Gavroche collected when we went to the museum- and lost interest in them 20 minutes later. You gave me that bell for our first anniversary. " Courf is staring at him in some sort of wonder- whether or not it's the sort of wonder you hold towards a person that's not sane, he isn't sure.
"So no, I don't want a new bike. I don't need a new bike. I love every little thing about mine."
His partner nods slowly, reaching across the kitchen counter to press a soft kiss to Jehan's lips.
"Okay,"
"Okay?"
"Okay."