Disclaimer: While I do own a Les Mis t-shirt, I do not own Les Mis.
It was autumn when it started.
The cafe was bustling as usual, with rowdy yells and clinking mugs, but Enjolras sat alone. His friends were all in classes, excepting Grantaire (who was never in class), and it was just as well-planning a revolution requires solitude. And silence, but that was sweet as sugar and equally as difficult to come by.
Enjolras sat in the back as usual, wondering at the fact that not a soul sat within three tables of him. He hoped he didn't seem terribly intimidating, as he sketched a gun in the margin of his notes. He glanced at the clock. 4:30. His friends were due any moment now. 4:35... 4:40... 4:45... Where were they?
It wasn't like them to be late.
Suddenly, from the back, he heard a shrill, feminine screech, and shouting of voices. Enjolras leaped from his place at the table, ready to aid any damsel in distress, but when he threw open the door to the kitchens he saw, not a damsel, but his good friend Joly, who was mysteriously dripping wet and had a large metal bucket stuck fast on his head. His other friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, were desperately trying to pry the bucket off, and Joly continued to scream.
Enjolras paused briefly to take in the scene, then, ignoring the oddities that were extremely abundant, rushed to help his friend.
"Hold still, Joly!" Combeferre grunted, his knuckles turning white in an effort to rid his friend of the bucket.
"And shut up, why don't you!" added Courfeyrac, who had paused in the tugging to put his hands over his ears. Joly stopped screaming, but continued to whine and protest and let out an occasional shout when the bucket scraped at his ears.
Finally, with much effort on Combeferre and Enjolras's part (I refuse to mention Courfeyrac, who spent most of the process banging on the bucket and shouting, "Still all right in there?"), the bucket popped off, and all four men were sent sprawling to the floor. They lay there for a moment, lamenting about pneumonia (Joly), make smart remarks (Courfeyrac), and whacking Courfeyrac (mostly Combeferre, but Enjolras once or twice). Finally, with great effort, all four sat up.
"What the hell was that?!" Enjolras shouted incredulously. "How did you possibly get a bucket of water dumped on your head?!"
"Haven't a clue," Joly replied, "but I'll surely catch cold very quickly if I'm not taken somewhere warm, dry, and without any drafts or mold, preferably out of direct sunlight, and-"
"Yes, yes, soon as possible," Combeferre interrupted him, anticipating a lecture. "But where did the bucket come from?"
"Dunno. I just walked through the door and all of the sudden I was very wet and couldn't see anything. I suppose someone perched it atop the door frame to fall on someone."
"But who would do that?"
Abruptly, Enjolras held up his hand to stop his friends' talking. He looked intently to the back of the kitchen, where several barrels of alcohol and coffee grounds and other goods sat on the floor. He glanced back at his friends and motioned for them to listen. One by one, they all faintly made out a small, muffled sound. Was that... laughter? In one swift movement, Enjolras whisked away the barrel in front to reveal three small children rolling on the floor with their hands over their mouths, giggling freely. Now that they had been revealed, they fully released their laughter, causing the students to smile slightly, contrasting with their frustration towards the obvious culprits.
When all three children finally slowed in their laughter and the men could make out their faces, it became clear: It was Gavroche! The little gamin was often mischievous, but had never played tricks on the students. This was unexpected, to say the least. With him were two other members of his gang: a girl that the men recognized as Marie, the nine-year-old orphan new girl; and a boy named Jacques, the eleven-year-old second-in-command runaway. Marie looked frightened at the prospect of seeing revolutionaries up close, but Gavroche merely continued giggling, clutching his knees to his chest and rolling back and forth endlessly. When he had composed himself and sat up properly, his face was flushed and his big blue eyes were sparkling.
"Hullo, Enjolras. Fancy seeing you here."
"Gavroche..." Joly growled, growing uncharacteristically angry. "Was that bucket the work of your gang?"
"Um..." Gavroche trailed off, glancing from Jacques to Marie back to Joly, his grin unfaltering. "Maybe."
"I'll kill you!" Joly shouted, lunging for the boy. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac burst into laughter at the sight of Joly rolling around on the floor, yelling and grabbing at the sly, snickering little street children. Finally, all three managed to escape Joly's evil clutches, scrambling to their feet and bolting.
"Ta-ta for now!" Gavroche shouted back over his shoulder mockingly as he ran out the door with his gangmates.
Thus began the Prank War.
Hopefully this will be a series, if I can remember to update. And if I had time. Exams suck.