My Little Poet

A/N: So I thought I would right something fluffy for my new favorite musical/book of all time. (seriously though I am obsessed with it... not healthy!) and it is obvious that Jehan and Courf are /the/ most adorable couple!

SUMMARY: Jehan loves Courfeyrac. There is no simpler way in putting it. He writes poetry about the young Irish man that he would never show to him in a million years because he could never obviously feel the same way about him... surely? It is impossible, right?

Warnings: It will eventually include some fluffy smut, will include swearing and just general adorableness from Jehan.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Les Miserables, it's all down to the genius of Victor Hugo and the writers of the musical (don't we all wish we owned Les Mis?), I do not own the characters and all that jazz. Just the story-line!

It was no surprise to find the little poet sat in the local café with his head stuffed into his notebook, scribbling away every single thought and feeling that came into his mind. It no was surprise to see him staring longing at a particular member of Les Amis de L'ABC, in a similar way to how Grantaire, the drunk, would look at Apollo. Of course, nobody could blame the drunkard for staring at the blonde haired man who ran their ever growing group of rebellious students. Enjolras was a man who could be capable of being cruel and yet he was not, he had no partner or any form of relationship; he was committed to Patria, his home country. France was his one and only love, much to Grantaire's great disappointment, but sometimes the glances between the pair made people talk and wonder. Not everyone was so private when it came to their love life, some people were already married and others were in relationships that sparked many of Jehan's poetry. Marius Pontmercy was no exception, even though most of the gang hated hearing him go on and on about his one true love, making comments on how he had only known her for a few days, but for Jehan it was the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How could anyone take those feelings and put onto paper, nobody knew, but Jehan always seemed to find a way and make it sound so beautiful, it could calm a storm or put a baby to sleep. The Amis often wondered who the mysterious person was who seemed to be the subject of many of his poems; it was obvious that it was someone close to him. Of course Jehan never told anyone, nor did he actually plan to tell anyone anytime soon. Forever would it be his secret of unrequited love. Surely /he/ would not feel the same way as he did.

So like on any other day, Jehan was sat in the café, scribbling in his note book once again. The meeting was not due until later, but he had already finished all of his studies for the day and didn't fancy going home to an empty apartment. Instead he thought he could get some writing done. He was particularly proud of his current piece that he was writing, but he was having trouble coming up with the ending. He wasn't quite happy with the way he had currently finished it and felt that it required something… more. He pouted, looking down at his work so far, letting out a sigh as he read over the scribbles with a mutter, so that nobody would hear him and think he was pathetic:

"I wrote this letter especially for you

To prove that my love for you is true

Never shall I kiss someone else's lips

After kissing you I have yet to come to grips"

He paused, pouting his lips once again before quickly scribbling on the paper before continuing:

"With our love combined everything is in reach

Meeting you for the first time, I was without speech

The moment I saw you my heart was sold

I dream that together we will grow old"

"We met each other, some time ago

Since then my love for you did only grow

You are my sweetheart day by day

I hope you will never go away"

"This gift is for you, I hope you will like it

Hoping to capture your heart, bit by bit

I look forward to our next moment together

With you, life cannot become any better"

Every time he read over and over nothing would come to mind, it did not matter if he read it aloud or read it inside his head. The words would not come, he even took a break to have coffee and a snack, but there was nothing. Nothing at all that would fit with the ending, maybe because in his mind – the intended recipient was too perfect for words. That may have sounded so cheesy to the point in which people might through up, but to Jehan it was true. How could Jehan find the perfect words for someone who is already perfect? Surely it was an impossible thing?

"Ugh! C'est impossible!" The young French man growled and slammed his pen down, smacking his head onto the glass table lightly. "J'abandonne!" He cried, getting a couple of odd looks from the people around him, he glanced over at them with a sheepish smile, muttering a small apology before looking back at the paper. Instead of writing any more, he grabbed his wallet from his bag and sulked over to the bar, glancing at the menu, he was a sucker for sweet things, especially sweet pastries. "Un Café et un pâtisserie fruits*, s'il vous plaît." He said to the round woman behind the bar, giving her a toothy grin before handing over the correct change. Thankfully it didn't take very long for him to get his order, the café was pretty quiet anywhere. Most students were at the university, those younger were at school still. Jehan didn't mind being alone though; it allowed him to write and to let his mind wander off to a particular Amis. He sighed, taking his order over to the table, catching his reflection in the mirror and pouted. He clearly hadn't made an effort today, he had his hair in his usual plait over a shoulder with a couple of flowers braided into it, people used to make fun of him… but not the Amis. They accepted him, flowers and all. He glanced down at the overly large jumper he was wearing, looking at the reflection again, the sleeves were so long, the tips of his fingers could only be seen and the length of the jumper came down to the middle of his thigh, his t-shirt could be seen slightly that he was wearing under the jumper thanks to the neck of the jumper falling off his shoulder. He had worn the jumper once and was told that he looked cute in it, you can guess it was by the man he often day dreams over, and decided to wear it as often as he could. Other than that, he was wearing his usual black, skinny jeans and his trainers. He had often been told he was 'cute' or 'adorable' by the other members of Les Amis, but Jehan was used to it. Only one had a special nickname for the poet that really meant anything to Jehan.

"Jehan! Wakey wakey!"

Jehan snapped out of his small day dream to the sound of someone calling out his name and snapping his fingers in front of his face. Jehan blinked for a few moments, waiting for his brain to process the person now sat next to him. His face immediately lit up when he finally recognised the face.

"Courfeyrac!" He almost cheered, cursing slightly to himself because he sounded so happy to see him. Well of course he was happy, but he shouldn't be /that/ happy around Courf, or he might suspect something. All the thoughts made Jehan blush slightly before looking at Courf who had already grabbed a fork and taken a large bite out of Jehan's pastry that had been on the plate in front of him, untouched. "Hey! That was mine!" He pouted, grabbing his own fork and taking a mouthful, he better get some of his snack before Courfeyrac ate all of it himself.

"Was it? I thought you bought it for me?" Courf grinned, almost making Jehan turn bright red again. He loved his smile, his curly locks and above all he loved his Irish accent, this man's voice alone could make Jehan's knees feel weak. Jehan gave Courf a small glare before letting out a sigh and shaking his head a little, scooping more of the sweet pastry into his mouth with a small hum. "What's this anyway? Been writing again?" Courf asked with his fork still in his mouth, making a grab for the notebook.

Nobody was allowed to touch Jehan's notebook. It was his pride and joy, he never left home without it and he especially didn't like people with drinks or food around it. Only Jehan was allowed to eat, drink and touch the notebook. Which was why he grabbed the book and moved it away from Courf's hands before it could be grabbed. Far too embarrassing at any rate, Courf wasn't stupid, he might figure out who the poems were directed towards and then laugh at him. Courf furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, taking the fork from his mouth. "Why can't I read it?" He asked, staring at Jehan.

"Because it isn't finished yet!" Jehan whined slightly, clutching the book close to himself as if it was a teddy bear. "You know I don't let people touch it…" He added with a mutter, looking out of the nearby window.

"Awww…. Come on Jehan!" Courf pouted, laying his head on his arms which were crossed on the glass table, giving Jehan a 'pretty please' look with his eyes. Jehan felt his heart skip a beat, he hated denying Courf, but rules were rules.

"No." Jehan stated, shoving the notebook into his bag with a final pout. "Why are you here?" Jehan asked eventually, raising a delicate eyebrow at the man. It was odd for him to be out of university so early. Surely Jehan had not been day dreaming for /that/ long. He glanced around the café, making sure that nobody else was here. The action made Courf laugh and sit up again, grinning at the small poet.

"I couldn't be bothered to go to biology." Courf shrugged, often skipping lessons. "I take it you finished early too?" He asked, smiling at the small poet, getting a shy nod in return which made him grin again. "You're wearing that jumper again… do you sleep in it or something?" He joked, ruffling the small man's hair before getting up from the table to order himself a coffee, completely unaware that Jehan had now turned a rather alarming shade of pink. He had been teased in his old schools for acting so much like a girl, but Jehan couldn't help it – wasn't his fault that he wrote poetry, loved flowers and found guys attractive. If only he had someone to really talk to about it all. There was Eponine, also known as Marius' shadow because she was obviously in love with him. Marius being Marius didn't see anything but a friend, it was almost heart breaking and Jehan could almost relate. But other than that, he didn't really know many girls. The Amis consisted of men… great friends, but only men. Enjolras was very much a traditional man and didn't think that women should be involved for it could get dangerous. They were not banned from the meetings or anything, it just nobody seemed to want to come and showed no interest.

Jehan glanced over his shoulder at Courf, letting out a small sigh before turning his attention to his thumbs with yet another sigh. Courf was always sleeping with women, he could not possibly feel the same way as Jehan did… "C'est impossible…" He muttered, taking a sip of his coffee, hoping that some of the others would arrive soon.

Well? Any good for a first chapter?

Please review! But be nice ~ It's my first Les Mis fan fiction... (and please tell me about any spelling/grammar mistakes that I might have missed.)

Chapter 2 will be up soon! ~