"A talking penis. Are you sure you are well?"

Combeferre studied his friend. Enjolras seemed healthy and alert enough, despite the late hour, but he just wasn't making sense. According to Enjolras, Grantaire's penis was suddenly capable of independent thought and speech. Combeferre wasn't sure if this were some kind of joke, albeit not along Enjolras' usual humor, or a nefarious plot of Grantaire. He reached forward to feel his friend's forehead.

Enjolras batted his hand away. "I'm fine. And I've seen it, Combeferre! Furthermore, it shares our views! Grantaire seemed a bit disgruntled that part of his body was now a Republican, but he's been very accommodating to me. He's welcomed me over at all hours, and even ended his drinking nights early for me. And once you start talking, you forget that your companion is physically a male organ."

Combeferre snorted. He could easily believe Enjolras' first point, and highly doubted the latter. Of course Grantaire would be thrilled to have Enjolras' attention, and no, Enjolras, most men would not be able to forget that they were conversing with a cock.

"Are you certain that this isn't some elaborate scheme or joke on Grantaire's part? Possibly on Courfeyrac or Bossuet's urging? Enjolras, penii don't speak."

A frown, hurt and betrayed, and Combeferre felt an utter monster. "Quite certain, and this one does. You should know me better than this."

Combeferre groped for something to say as Enjolras stared at him in wounded confusion. Then, the blond was up in a whirlwind of excitement, grabbing Combeferre's hands and pulling him to his feet. "Come on! The only way you'll believe this is to see it yourself! Grantaire's likely home now, but he'll let me in."

Sighing, Combeferre could do nothing but follow. And if this was a trick of Grantaire's, to capture Enjolras' passion and focus, then the drunkard was in for a world of pain.

Well, it seemed that Enjolras was correct. Grantaire's penis talked. A half-asleep Grantaire had greeted them at the door and admitted them in to his apartment, and Combeferre hadn't missed the way the other's eyes lit up at the sight of Enjolras. That hadn't done anything to improve Combeferre's mood, and he'd followed them into the bedroom rather sourly, contemplating the merits of using Grantaire for target practice. When Grantaire had taken down his trousers and started stroking himself, Combeferre was ready to storm out of the apartment, dragging Enjolras with him, and quite possibly return alone with shotgun in hand.

"Hello. We have a newcomer?"

That wasn't quite Grantaire's voice, and more importantly, Grantaire's mouth hadn't moved. Not conclusive by any means, but it was something. He looked down and the erect penis bobbed in front of him.

"Are you one of Enjolras' friends?"

Well, crap. Now what? He supposed that answering was the best way to get to the bottom of this.

"Yes, I am. My name is Combeferre. Might I inquire as to your own?"

Another bob, almost like a nod of assent. "Grantaire always calls me Capital R. I think I'm more of an Alphonse."

Enjolras was watching him with that mixture of hope and anticipation that never failed to tug at his heart. Grantaire was also watching him, with a good deal more trepidation, but none of the secret guilt that Combeferre expected to find. Curiosity overriding his logic, he crept closer, and poked the hard shaft. Two voices protested simultaneously.

"Ouch!" yelped the cock.

"Hey! Don't do that!" from Grantaire.

Well, that did it. The penis spoke, Combeferre couldn't deny it. Whether it did so completely independent of Grantaire's mind was yet to be determined, but it spoke.

"Fascinating! How do you think it happened? Has it always spoken? This defies the laws of nature, and I know several people who would be very interested. Have you eaten anything unusual, Grantaire? Do you mind if I perform some experiments sometime?"

Grantaire looked horrified. "Yes, I bloody do mind! No, you are not experimenting on me or Capital R!"

The cock chimed in agreement, "No experiments, please! I don't know how I came to speak, it just happened!"

Enjolras edged forward. "Combeferre, I wouldn't inform anyone else about this, especially beyond our circle. If word got out, it could be catastrophic."

Combeferre touched Enjolras' shoulder in reassurance. "You're right, no outsiders. And I can only imagine what our other friends would say! But, Grantaire, and, um, Alphonse, I would like to talk some more with you both."

Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, who nodded at him, then sighed. "Fine, if you must. But not now. It's late and we're tired, so if you could be so kind as to leave?" In a much softer voice, "Enjolras, you're more than welcome to stay."

Enjolras shook his head, "No, no. It is late, and we've imposed enough. Besides, Combeferre, there's still some work to finish. We should be going. Goodnight, Grantaire, Alphonse."

Combeferre let Enjolras precede him out, then lowered his voice. "And if I find that this is some hoax, and you're preying on his beliefs, there will be hell to pay. Don't hurt him."

Looking oddly dignified half-dressed, Grantaire avowed, "I would never hurt him."

Combeferre grunted, and followed Enjolras into the night.