The Les Mis Cookery Class
"Fairy cakes?" Enjolras exclaimed, outraged. "Dear God woman, you called me away from saving the Glory that is the Republic of France and bringing Liberty and Freedom to all mankind to make fairy cakes?" Liz looked pained.
"I only thought you might be interested in helping out…" she began, stopping abruptly as the full power of that patented icy glare was turned upon her. She tried again. "Everyone else is…" Enjolras just glared at her.
"Well, if everyone else is…." He retorted sarcastically. "If everyone else is, then obviously that is more than ample enough reason for you to assume that I would just jump at the chance to drop everything and rejoice in the prospect of becoming totally covered in flour and God only knows what else with a group of… of… Hypochondriacs, Love-sick-fools and Drunkards!" He broke off spluttering, too overcome with righteous indignation to continue.
"Shhhh!" Liz cut in hastily, but it was too late. The small group huddled around the cookery book on the table had heard everything, and taken offence, especially at the last part.
"Oh, excuse us oh Godly-one for daring to breath!" A mocking voice retorted. "Let me prostrate myself at your feet as I beg you to stoop so low as to join a group of social undesirables such as ourselves." At which Grantaire, who had already consumed a considerable portion of a bottle of wine, threw himself to the floor in front of his blond companion. Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"Get up Grantaire, you're making a fool of yourself." He hissed, after a futile attempt to shake off the man who had just attached himself to his ankle.
"I can'd helb habing a cold…" Joly added as his defence against the unfairness of Enjolras' statement. "I do think you could be a liddle more sympathedic…" He looked offended. "Its nod as though I go on about id all the tibe or anything…"
Grantaire looked up from his task of attempting to impede Enjolras' ability to walk as much as was humanely possible, and considered this.
"No, you only mention it about twenty times in any given hour." He agreed. "Not much at all really…" Joly looked indignant.
"Are…are you saying you agree with him?" He asked, hurt.
"Well there has to be a first time for everything I suppose." Combeferre remarked absently as he studied the recipe intently. Marius, the only one not to have responded to Enjolras' attack, looked up.
"Yes." He responded dreamily. "Like the first time I saw my angel… there she was, looking so beautiful…" he trailed off with a sigh. Everyone groaned.
"Marius!" they chorused. "Shut up!"
"Right!" Liz cut in quickly. "How are those cakes coming on?" Combeferre, the only one who was really focusing on the task at hand, looked at her.
"Well…" he began, pushing up his glasses as he spoke (and of course covering them in flour in the process…) "To be totally honest with you…" Liz sighed.
"Ok then…." She said, taking a deep breath. "May I suggest we make a start?"
Taking advantage of his captor's currently distracted state, Enjolras managed to extricate himself from Grantaire's hold. Remaining in the middle of the room he glared.
"I simply cannot understand…" he began rebelliously, only to be once again interrupted by Grantaire.
"Well we all know why that is." He commented smugly, moving to stand behind Combeferre, out of immediate range of his blond idol. Marius actually looked interested.
"Why's that then?" he asked, temporarily distracted from thoughts of his love life by the novel idea of Grantaire actually knowing something. Grantaire grinned.
"Why, isn't it obvious?" he asked, enjoying his moment of glory and having no qualms about dragging it out as long as possible. Marius gave the matter some thought.
"Well…" he began, looking pained. "Not really…" Grantaire shook his head.
"Then my friend, it is a good thing that you have me around to tell you such things." With that he bent forward and whispered something in the other man's ear. Marius paled, then backed away, looking from Enjolras to Grantaire then at something that suddenly seemed to be of utmost interest on the carpet.
"What did he say?" Enjolras fumed. If looks could kill, Grantaire would certainly no longer be among the living.
"I…um….I…" Marius stuttered, unable to continue as he withered under 100 watts of Enjy glare. Grantaire smirked.
"If you don't know already, then it just proves my point." He taunted. With a barely suppressed growl, Enjolras turned to Combeferre.
"What did he say?" he repeated threateningly. 'Ferre looked uncomfortable. "I didn't actually hear what was said…" he began, blinking nervously. A quick look at Enjolras' face made him hastily add "But… I… Well, I think maybe the word stupid may have come into it somewhere…" Enjolras froze.
"Stupid?" he repeated softly, staring straight at Grantaire. "Did you call me stupid?" Grantaire smiled innocently at him.
"Oh Enjolras! I am mortally wounded that you could even think I would ever dream of calling you such a thing!" he cried, immediately ruining any good his words may have done by turning to 'Ferre and adding rather loudly, "not to your face anyway…" As Liz buried her face in her hands and groaned, Enjolras stormed over to stand in front of a smirking and thoroughly irritating Grantaire.
"I am not stupid!" he insisted firmly, glaring even more at the expression of amusement on his tormentor's face. Grantaire grinned.
"Oh really?" he commented, turning to face the others. "Did you hear that everybody? Our fearless leader wishes us all to believe he isn't stupid!" Combeferre, looking increasingly uncomfortable due to the conversation and the rather unhealthy shade of red Enjolras was going, decided it was time he said something.
"We all know Enjolras isn't stupid…" he attempted soothingly. Grantaire snorted.
"No? Oh forgive me, I was under the impression that leading a group of people to certain death on a barricade and, may I add, destroying a perfectly good wine shop in the process was to be considered a slightly foolish act to say the least… though feel free to correct me if I'm wrong…" he commented, observing with great interest the fact that Enjolras' mouth was moving but no sound actually coming out. Marius considered this for a moment.
"Well… now that you mention it…" he piped up, "I did always think it was a slightly silly thing to do…" Enjolras spun round to face him.
"I AM NOT STUPID!" he shouted at him. Marius, however, who was by this point already back in his own little dream world, barely registered him. "If you say so…" he responded vaguely, doing nothing to reduce the wrath of his friend. Joly sneezed.
"Cad we jusd make these cades so I cad gob back to beb?" he demanded pitifully, looking pleadingly at his companions. "This colb is really…" Grantaire however, had other ideas.
"Alright then Apollo – lets say for a moment that you're right. Would you care to prove it?" he challenged. Enjolras glared.
"I don't need to prove anything to you," he returned haughtily. Grantaire laughed.
"Oh come Enjolras, humour me!" he paused." Besides, if you're not stupid, then what have you got to worry about?" Feuilly, who had until this point remained unobtrusively weighing out ingredients, suddenly decided things were getting too interesting to ignore and moved closer to the group.
"What did you have in mind Grantaire?" he asked curiously, somehow managing to miss the icy glare being thrown in his direction by their irate leader. Grantaire considered this.
"Well…" he began, thoroughly enjoying himself, "I was thinking that a set of questions might do the trick…" Enjolras snorted.
"Not planning to think them up yourself are you? If we wait that long, Joly will never get back to bed!" Ignoring the sudden look of panic on Joly's face, Grantaire laughed.
"On the contrary Fearless Leader – I already have just the thing to test you with," he announced, taking a swig of wine as he spoke. "All that remains now is for you to decide whether to accept your challenge or not…" Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"Just get on with it before everyone dies of boredom," he commented, turning to where Liz was standing despairingly in the corner, "I really don't know why you let him…"
"Right! Question number one!" announced Grantaire suddenly, climbing up onto the table as he spoke. Everyone watched expectantly. Grantaire cleared his throat.
"What do you call frozen water?" he asked. Enjolras stared at him in disbelief.
"What sort of a question is that?" he demanded scornfully. Grantaire shook his head.
"Just answer it – if you can that is…" he taunted. Marius looked thoughtful.
"I should know the answer to that one…" he murmured, moving to sit on the counter, heedless of the flour and butter all over it.
"Marius you've…" Feuilly began, trailing off when he realised that a) it was a bit late to warn him now and b) Marius, being Marius, wasn't likely to notice anyway. Grantaire, sensing that attention was beginning to drift away from him, cleared his throat.
"So? Do you have an answer?" he demanded, swaying slightly and steadying himself with a hand on Joly's head. Joly jumped.
"I hope your hands are clean…" he began worriedly, already glancing around for the nearest source of disinfectant. Enjolras groaned.
"ICE!" he yelled. "For the love of god, the answer is ICE! Now can we stop this ludicrousness and get on with something even semi-normal?" Combeferre nodded in agreement.
"Yes Grantaire, he has answered your question…" he pointed out reasonably. Grantaire laughed and shook his head.
"Ah, it'll take more than that to convince me that our fair haired wonder- boy isn't stupid," he protested. "Another question methinks…" Enjolras laughed derisively.
"Well if it's as easy as the last one…" he commented. Grantaire cleared his throat again.
"Can I continue?" he asked pointedly. Enjolras nodded wearily.
"If you must…" he sighed.
"Alright then… second question!" he declared, pausing momentarily for dramatic effect.
"What do you call frozen cream?" Enjolras looked at him as if he was stupid.
"Ice cream of course! Really, where do you get these questions from? He snapped. Grantaire smiled sweetly at him.
"Patience my dear statue, all will be revealed in time…" he soothed. Enjolras glared.
"It better be…" he muttered darkly. "I really don't think this is at all necessary…"
"Question number three!" he announced, continuing hurriedly before anyone could interrupt him. "What do you call frozen ink?" Combeferre, who had suddenly had a flash of inspiration as to where this was heading, frowned.
"Grantaire…" he said warningly. Grantaire turned to smile at him.
"Ah I see our dear philosopher has slightly more brain cells than the rest of us… but wait, don't lets ruin it for Apollo here – let him answer!" he commented, watching Enjolras with a smile. Enjolras snorted.
"Anyone has more brain cells than you," he commented acidly. Grantaire just smiled again.
"Your answer please monsieur!" he smirked, clearly enjoying himself. Enjolras sighed.
"Iced ink," he replied. Combeferre buried his face in his hands.
"Oh dear…" he murmured, shaking his head. Enjolras, unfortunately, did not seem to have noticed what he had said and was still glaring at Grantaire who was in turn smiling widely.
"What was that Enjolras? Didn't quite hear you…" the drunk continued. Enjolras shook his head at him.
"Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said ICED-INK!" he yelled. Everyone jumped.
"Oh! Is it you I can smell? I was wondering what that was…" Marius commented. Enjolras stared at him.
"What on earth are you on about?" he demanded, thinking that the fool had finally taken leave of his senses. Grantaire, who was by now rolling on the floor with laughter, also earned a look of disgust, which only made him laugh more.
"You still don't get it do you?" he gasped. Joly, busy trying to hide a snicker behind a well timed sneeze tried to enlighten him.
"You… you… you said…" he began, giving up when a fit of wheezing caused by flying flour overtook him. Enjolras threw his hands up in the air.
"I know what I said!" he exclaimed. "Iced-ink!" Feuilly was the next one to dissolve into laughter.
"Oh dear… maybe a bath would be in order then?" he chuckled, leaning over to thump Joly on the back. "Come on, don't die on us now, I would've thought once was enough even for you…" Combeferre groaned.
"Enjolras – maybe it would be best if you didn't…" he began, only to be cut off by a by now even more wound up leader.
"I am simply answering his stupid question! Iced ink, iced ink, ICED INK!" he yelled, pacing round the room as he did so. "Does this prove to you that I am not stupid?" Grantaire smirked up at him from the floor.
"I hardly think telling the world that you smell is going to do that now really…" he commented. Enjolras stared at him blankly for a moment.
"What on earth…" he began, then stopped suddenly as realisation dawned on him.
"Uh-oh…" Combeferre murmured softly. Liz sank down onto to floor to watch the explosion.
"I should sell tickets…" she muttered to herself, covering her ears as Enjolras started to yell.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST DID THAT!" he almost screamed at the still giggling Grantaire. Feuilly snickered.
"Was thoroughly amusing though…" he commented rashly. Enjolras turned to glare at him.
"Oh was it?" he enquired, his voice low and rather dangerous. Feuilly suppressed a smirk and remained silent – clearly the intelligent one.
"Oh yes – see – Joly's still laughing at you!" chimed in Marius who quite evidently was not.
"The cakes!" Combeferre chimed in suddenly in a vain attempt to divert the imminent disaster.
"Wad cades? Madius has sad in the ingrebiands!" Joly managed to splutter from where he still lay on the floor, incapable of standing but still more than willing to complicate matters if at all possible.
"And this is far more entertaining to watch!" Grantaire piped up, having been quiet for a least the past forty seconds and beginning to feel troubled by the fact.
"Entertaining? I'll give you entertaining!" Enjolras yelled, picking up the nearest thing to hand which, unfortunately for all concerned, happened to be an egg. Grantaire grinned.
"Well that's not going to stop you smelling either…" he commented with a helpful air. "I usually find that hot water and plenty of soap does…" he didn't get to finish though as the egg suddenly parted company with Enjolras' hand and went flying straight towards his head.
"Temper temper!" he snickered, ducking as the egg whirled past him.
"AGH!" Feuilly yelled as he suddenly and most unexpectedly found himself covered in a sticky mess. "What was that for?" not bothering to wait for a reply he quickly grabbed for the butter and sent it flying back across the room. Combeferre, in the process of reaching out to catch it as it sailed past only managed to slip in the mixture of flour and egg yolk that was now covering the floor and went flying into Enjolras.
"Wha… noooo!" he cried, as he in turn went crashing into a dithering Marius. He was soon back on his feet though, just in time to receive the best part of a bag of flour over his head courtesy of a rather annoyed and sniffling Joly. Liz groaned and banged her head against the wall.
"What did I ever do to deserve this?" she asked no one in particular. No one answered her though, as they were all far too busy throwing the contents of her kitchen at each other. Shaking her head she stood, slipping out the door and closing it firmly on the scene of destruction behind her. "And they wonder why I don't let them build barricades anymore…" she mused to herself, laughing despite the fact that she would have to clean it all up in the morning. Besides, she consoled herself, it'll make a great fan fic…
The End
"Fairy cakes?" Enjolras exclaimed, outraged. "Dear God woman, you called me away from saving the Glory that is the Republic of France and bringing Liberty and Freedom to all mankind to make fairy cakes?" Liz looked pained.
"I only thought you might be interested in helping out…" she began, stopping abruptly as the full power of that patented icy glare was turned upon her. She tried again. "Everyone else is…" Enjolras just glared at her.
"Well, if everyone else is…." He retorted sarcastically. "If everyone else is, then obviously that is more than ample enough reason for you to assume that I would just jump at the chance to drop everything and rejoice in the prospect of becoming totally covered in flour and God only knows what else with a group of… of… Hypochondriacs, Love-sick-fools and Drunkards!" He broke off spluttering, too overcome with righteous indignation to continue.
"Shhhh!" Liz cut in hastily, but it was too late. The small group huddled around the cookery book on the table had heard everything, and taken offence, especially at the last part.
"Oh, excuse us oh Godly-one for daring to breath!" A mocking voice retorted. "Let me prostrate myself at your feet as I beg you to stoop so low as to join a group of social undesirables such as ourselves." At which Grantaire, who had already consumed a considerable portion of a bottle of wine, threw himself to the floor in front of his blond companion. Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"Get up Grantaire, you're making a fool of yourself." He hissed, after a futile attempt to shake off the man who had just attached himself to his ankle.
"I can'd helb habing a cold…" Joly added as his defence against the unfairness of Enjolras' statement. "I do think you could be a liddle more sympathedic…" He looked offended. "Its nod as though I go on about id all the tibe or anything…"
Grantaire looked up from his task of attempting to impede Enjolras' ability to walk as much as was humanely possible, and considered this.
"No, you only mention it about twenty times in any given hour." He agreed. "Not much at all really…" Joly looked indignant.
"Are…are you saying you agree with him?" He asked, hurt.
"Well there has to be a first time for everything I suppose." Combeferre remarked absently as he studied the recipe intently. Marius, the only one not to have responded to Enjolras' attack, looked up.
"Yes." He responded dreamily. "Like the first time I saw my angel… there she was, looking so beautiful…" he trailed off with a sigh. Everyone groaned.
"Marius!" they chorused. "Shut up!"
"Right!" Liz cut in quickly. "How are those cakes coming on?" Combeferre, the only one who was really focusing on the task at hand, looked at her.
"Well…" he began, pushing up his glasses as he spoke (and of course covering them in flour in the process…) "To be totally honest with you…" Liz sighed.
"Ok then…." She said, taking a deep breath. "May I suggest we make a start?"
Taking advantage of his captor's currently distracted state, Enjolras managed to extricate himself from Grantaire's hold. Remaining in the middle of the room he glared.
"I simply cannot understand…" he began rebelliously, only to be once again interrupted by Grantaire.
"Well we all know why that is." He commented smugly, moving to stand behind Combeferre, out of immediate range of his blond idol. Marius actually looked interested.
"Why's that then?" he asked, temporarily distracted from thoughts of his love life by the novel idea of Grantaire actually knowing something. Grantaire grinned.
"Why, isn't it obvious?" he asked, enjoying his moment of glory and having no qualms about dragging it out as long as possible. Marius gave the matter some thought.
"Well…" he began, looking pained. "Not really…" Grantaire shook his head.
"Then my friend, it is a good thing that you have me around to tell you such things." With that he bent forward and whispered something in the other man's ear. Marius paled, then backed away, looking from Enjolras to Grantaire then at something that suddenly seemed to be of utmost interest on the carpet.
"What did he say?" Enjolras fumed. If looks could kill, Grantaire would certainly no longer be among the living.
"I…um….I…" Marius stuttered, unable to continue as he withered under 100 watts of Enjy glare. Grantaire smirked.
"If you don't know already, then it just proves my point." He taunted. With a barely suppressed growl, Enjolras turned to Combeferre.
"What did he say?" he repeated threateningly. 'Ferre looked uncomfortable. "I didn't actually hear what was said…" he began, blinking nervously. A quick look at Enjolras' face made him hastily add "But… I… Well, I think maybe the word stupid may have come into it somewhere…" Enjolras froze.
"Stupid?" he repeated softly, staring straight at Grantaire. "Did you call me stupid?" Grantaire smiled innocently at him.
"Oh Enjolras! I am mortally wounded that you could even think I would ever dream of calling you such a thing!" he cried, immediately ruining any good his words may have done by turning to 'Ferre and adding rather loudly, "not to your face anyway…" As Liz buried her face in her hands and groaned, Enjolras stormed over to stand in front of a smirking and thoroughly irritating Grantaire.
"I am not stupid!" he insisted firmly, glaring even more at the expression of amusement on his tormentor's face. Grantaire grinned.
"Oh really?" he commented, turning to face the others. "Did you hear that everybody? Our fearless leader wishes us all to believe he isn't stupid!" Combeferre, looking increasingly uncomfortable due to the conversation and the rather unhealthy shade of red Enjolras was going, decided it was time he said something.
"We all know Enjolras isn't stupid…" he attempted soothingly. Grantaire snorted.
"No? Oh forgive me, I was under the impression that leading a group of people to certain death on a barricade and, may I add, destroying a perfectly good wine shop in the process was to be considered a slightly foolish act to say the least… though feel free to correct me if I'm wrong…" he commented, observing with great interest the fact that Enjolras' mouth was moving but no sound actually coming out. Marius considered this for a moment.
"Well… now that you mention it…" he piped up, "I did always think it was a slightly silly thing to do…" Enjolras spun round to face him.
"I AM NOT STUPID!" he shouted at him. Marius, however, who was by this point already back in his own little dream world, barely registered him. "If you say so…" he responded vaguely, doing nothing to reduce the wrath of his friend. Joly sneezed.
"Cad we jusd make these cades so I cad gob back to beb?" he demanded pitifully, looking pleadingly at his companions. "This colb is really…" Grantaire however, had other ideas.
"Alright then Apollo – lets say for a moment that you're right. Would you care to prove it?" he challenged. Enjolras glared.
"I don't need to prove anything to you," he returned haughtily. Grantaire laughed.
"Oh come Enjolras, humour me!" he paused." Besides, if you're not stupid, then what have you got to worry about?" Feuilly, who had until this point remained unobtrusively weighing out ingredients, suddenly decided things were getting too interesting to ignore and moved closer to the group.
"What did you have in mind Grantaire?" he asked curiously, somehow managing to miss the icy glare being thrown in his direction by their irate leader. Grantaire considered this.
"Well…" he began, thoroughly enjoying himself, "I was thinking that a set of questions might do the trick…" Enjolras snorted.
"Not planning to think them up yourself are you? If we wait that long, Joly will never get back to bed!" Ignoring the sudden look of panic on Joly's face, Grantaire laughed.
"On the contrary Fearless Leader – I already have just the thing to test you with," he announced, taking a swig of wine as he spoke. "All that remains now is for you to decide whether to accept your challenge or not…" Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"Just get on with it before everyone dies of boredom," he commented, turning to where Liz was standing despairingly in the corner, "I really don't know why you let him…"
"Right! Question number one!" announced Grantaire suddenly, climbing up onto the table as he spoke. Everyone watched expectantly. Grantaire cleared his throat.
"What do you call frozen water?" he asked. Enjolras stared at him in disbelief.
"What sort of a question is that?" he demanded scornfully. Grantaire shook his head.
"Just answer it – if you can that is…" he taunted. Marius looked thoughtful.
"I should know the answer to that one…" he murmured, moving to sit on the counter, heedless of the flour and butter all over it.
"Marius you've…" Feuilly began, trailing off when he realised that a) it was a bit late to warn him now and b) Marius, being Marius, wasn't likely to notice anyway. Grantaire, sensing that attention was beginning to drift away from him, cleared his throat.
"So? Do you have an answer?" he demanded, swaying slightly and steadying himself with a hand on Joly's head. Joly jumped.
"I hope your hands are clean…" he began worriedly, already glancing around for the nearest source of disinfectant. Enjolras groaned.
"ICE!" he yelled. "For the love of god, the answer is ICE! Now can we stop this ludicrousness and get on with something even semi-normal?" Combeferre nodded in agreement.
"Yes Grantaire, he has answered your question…" he pointed out reasonably. Grantaire laughed and shook his head.
"Ah, it'll take more than that to convince me that our fair haired wonder- boy isn't stupid," he protested. "Another question methinks…" Enjolras laughed derisively.
"Well if it's as easy as the last one…" he commented. Grantaire cleared his throat again.
"Can I continue?" he asked pointedly. Enjolras nodded wearily.
"If you must…" he sighed.
"Alright then… second question!" he declared, pausing momentarily for dramatic effect.
"What do you call frozen cream?" Enjolras looked at him as if he was stupid.
"Ice cream of course! Really, where do you get these questions from? He snapped. Grantaire smiled sweetly at him.
"Patience my dear statue, all will be revealed in time…" he soothed. Enjolras glared.
"It better be…" he muttered darkly. "I really don't think this is at all necessary…"
"Question number three!" he announced, continuing hurriedly before anyone could interrupt him. "What do you call frozen ink?" Combeferre, who had suddenly had a flash of inspiration as to where this was heading, frowned.
"Grantaire…" he said warningly. Grantaire turned to smile at him.
"Ah I see our dear philosopher has slightly more brain cells than the rest of us… but wait, don't lets ruin it for Apollo here – let him answer!" he commented, watching Enjolras with a smile. Enjolras snorted.
"Anyone has more brain cells than you," he commented acidly. Grantaire just smiled again.
"Your answer please monsieur!" he smirked, clearly enjoying himself. Enjolras sighed.
"Iced ink," he replied. Combeferre buried his face in his hands.
"Oh dear…" he murmured, shaking his head. Enjolras, unfortunately, did not seem to have noticed what he had said and was still glaring at Grantaire who was in turn smiling widely.
"What was that Enjolras? Didn't quite hear you…" the drunk continued. Enjolras shook his head at him.
"Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said ICED-INK!" he yelled. Everyone jumped.
"Oh! Is it you I can smell? I was wondering what that was…" Marius commented. Enjolras stared at him.
"What on earth are you on about?" he demanded, thinking that the fool had finally taken leave of his senses. Grantaire, who was by now rolling on the floor with laughter, also earned a look of disgust, which only made him laugh more.
"You still don't get it do you?" he gasped. Joly, busy trying to hide a snicker behind a well timed sneeze tried to enlighten him.
"You… you… you said…" he began, giving up when a fit of wheezing caused by flying flour overtook him. Enjolras threw his hands up in the air.
"I know what I said!" he exclaimed. "Iced-ink!" Feuilly was the next one to dissolve into laughter.
"Oh dear… maybe a bath would be in order then?" he chuckled, leaning over to thump Joly on the back. "Come on, don't die on us now, I would've thought once was enough even for you…" Combeferre groaned.
"Enjolras – maybe it would be best if you didn't…" he began, only to be cut off by a by now even more wound up leader.
"I am simply answering his stupid question! Iced ink, iced ink, ICED INK!" he yelled, pacing round the room as he did so. "Does this prove to you that I am not stupid?" Grantaire smirked up at him from the floor.
"I hardly think telling the world that you smell is going to do that now really…" he commented. Enjolras stared at him blankly for a moment.
"What on earth…" he began, then stopped suddenly as realisation dawned on him.
"Uh-oh…" Combeferre murmured softly. Liz sank down onto to floor to watch the explosion.
"I should sell tickets…" she muttered to herself, covering her ears as Enjolras started to yell.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST DID THAT!" he almost screamed at the still giggling Grantaire. Feuilly snickered.
"Was thoroughly amusing though…" he commented rashly. Enjolras turned to glare at him.
"Oh was it?" he enquired, his voice low and rather dangerous. Feuilly suppressed a smirk and remained silent – clearly the intelligent one.
"Oh yes – see – Joly's still laughing at you!" chimed in Marius who quite evidently was not.
"The cakes!" Combeferre chimed in suddenly in a vain attempt to divert the imminent disaster.
"Wad cades? Madius has sad in the ingrebiands!" Joly managed to splutter from where he still lay on the floor, incapable of standing but still more than willing to complicate matters if at all possible.
"And this is far more entertaining to watch!" Grantaire piped up, having been quiet for a least the past forty seconds and beginning to feel troubled by the fact.
"Entertaining? I'll give you entertaining!" Enjolras yelled, picking up the nearest thing to hand which, unfortunately for all concerned, happened to be an egg. Grantaire grinned.
"Well that's not going to stop you smelling either…" he commented with a helpful air. "I usually find that hot water and plenty of soap does…" he didn't get to finish though as the egg suddenly parted company with Enjolras' hand and went flying straight towards his head.
"Temper temper!" he snickered, ducking as the egg whirled past him.
"AGH!" Feuilly yelled as he suddenly and most unexpectedly found himself covered in a sticky mess. "What was that for?" not bothering to wait for a reply he quickly grabbed for the butter and sent it flying back across the room. Combeferre, in the process of reaching out to catch it as it sailed past only managed to slip in the mixture of flour and egg yolk that was now covering the floor and went flying into Enjolras.
"Wha… noooo!" he cried, as he in turn went crashing into a dithering Marius. He was soon back on his feet though, just in time to receive the best part of a bag of flour over his head courtesy of a rather annoyed and sniffling Joly. Liz groaned and banged her head against the wall.
"What did I ever do to deserve this?" she asked no one in particular. No one answered her though, as they were all far too busy throwing the contents of her kitchen at each other. Shaking her head she stood, slipping out the door and closing it firmly on the scene of destruction behind her. "And they wonder why I don't let them build barricades anymore…" she mused to herself, laughing despite the fact that she would have to clean it all up in the morning. Besides, she consoled herself, it'll make a great fan fic…
The End