The next few weeks flew by, with the students settling into their own routines. All three went to lectures and seminars, and spent every evening in the Cafe Musain with the group of friends sharing Courfeyrac's flat, but that was where the similarities ended. Combeferre had his placement in the local hospital, and was sitting in on several Philosophy lectures (purely due to self interest instead of any actual need), not to mention the amount of personal reading he always seemed to be doing. Enjolras could spend hours of his week debating politics with Professor Lemarque, yet still found time to run his new society (for which he had enlisted most of their new friends - Feuilly especially was very outspoken) and attend any political, and especially protest, rallies. Courfeyrac spent half of his life in either a courtroom or a bar, insisting that having a drink after his visits was the only way to cope with the unfairness of the law. Part of his life he kept a secret though. The group all assumed he had girls all over the city, but whenever they asked too many questions he would just smile and say nothing, still leaving earlier than everyone else yet getting back to the flat hours later, sometimes not until the early hours of the morning.

That night was no exception. Laughing and joking, Courfeyrac winked at Joly as he left, ignoring all the teasing that followed him out of the door. Growing serious the moment he was outside, he made his way along the alleys he now knew quite well, searching every pub he passed. In the sixth, he found what he was searching for.

"Courfeyrac!" Grantaire called drunkly, raising his bottle in a toast. Courfeyrac sighed and made his way through the crowded room towards him.

"Evening Grantaire," he said wearily, looking round the group Grantaire was sat with.

"This is 'Parnasse," he slurred, waving a hand vaguely. "And Gaston and Garth. I live with them." Courfeyrac raised one eyebrow, vaguely recognising the man introduced as 'Parnasse as the flatmate who he generally left Grantaire with. None of the men was in a better state than Grantaire - in fact, they were worse.

"Do you have any other flatmates?" he asked softly, pulling the bottle out of Grantaire's grasp and placing it out of reach on the next table.

"Nope!" he announced.

"Come on," he sighed, dragging Grantaire up and out of the door as he waved at his friends. He once again talked as he walked, trying to keep Grantaire awake and stumbling along beside him. "You'll have to come back to mine for the night, I'm not leaving you on your own or with them. You really need new friends."

"You're a good friend," Grantaire mumbled, reaching up to pat him on the cheek.

"And you're a shit one." As he entered the halls of residence, Courfeyrac (not for the first time) thanked god there was no reception in his building. Finally reaching his flat, he unlocked the door and dragged Grantaire into his room, letting him flop down onto the bed. "Throw up on my bed and I'll kill you," he warned as he left again, making his way back into the hallway and down to the communal area. Sinking into a chair, he let his head hit the back and stared up at the ceiling. "What the hell have you done, Courfeyrac?" he asked himself quietly, shaking his head. "You bloody fool."


"There's a strange man in the bathroom," Joly declared as he burst into the room. Bahorel and Feuilly looked up from the table and stared at him for a moment before laughing.

"And where's he come from then?" Bahorel smirked.

"I don't know, but he was just getting out of the shower when I went in."

"Joly, relax. A stranger can't have got in here without knowing someone. He's not going to kill you."

"You think! He might!" And with that, Joly turned and ran off back to his room.

"Strange man," Feuilly muttered, shaking his head. Moments later though, the stranger was standing where Joly had just been, looking over his shoulder. Turning to face them, Bahorel laughed at the look of befuddlement on his face.

"Please excuse Joly, he's always like that. I'm Bahorel, this is Feuilly."

"Grantaire," he murmured, running a hand through his curls, messing them up even more. "Do you know where Courf is?"

"Courfeyrac?" The pair glanced at each other in amazement. "Uh, no. Why?"

"Can you tell him I left? Oh, and tell him thanks." Lifting a hand to them as goodbye, he vanished.

"Oh. My. God." Feuilly stared up at Bahorel. "Was that what I think it was?"

"If you think it was an extremely hungover student, then you'd be right."

"Oh come on Bahorel!" he cried exasperatedly. Bahorel shrugged and went back to eating his breakfast.

"Maybe, maybe not. Why don't you ask him?"

"Oh yeah, wonderful idea there! 'Hey Courfeyrac, hope you don't mind, but do you bash the shuttlecock from the feathered end?'" He stopped when he saw Bahorel staring at him. "What?"

"That may possibly be the best euphemism I have ever heard in my life," Bahorel said slowly.

"Why thank you," Feuilly grinned.

"Don't let him take the credit for it, he only learnt it because he watched Blandings with me last week," Courfeyrac laughed as he opened the fridge to find some food. "Who you talking about anyways?"

"Uh, no one," Feuilly said quickly, nudging Bahorel when he opened his mouth to speak. Bahorel simply rolled his eyes and continued.

"Feuilly was wondering if you were gay," he said bluntly. "Oh, and the guy from your room said to tell you a) that he'd left, and b) thanks."

"Oh, okay. Well, thanks for passing the message on, and Feuilly?" Courfeyrac winked at him. "No comment." As his friend's jaw dropped and Bahorel burst out laughing, Courfeyrac made his escape. He wasn't gay - at least, he was fairly sure he wasn't - but that didn't mean he couldn't have some fun.


When Enjolras heard the rumours about Courfeyrac being gay, he couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Are we talking about the same Courfeyrac?" he asked incredulously, looking round the trio of serious faces.

"Uh, yeah. There was some strange guy in his room last night and this morning he told us to say thanks to Courfeyrac for him and he certainly looked like something had been going on in there with the way his hair was messy and everything and he didn't seem to have any spare clothing with him and then Courfeyrac just grinned at them when Bahorel asked and walked out without answering and-"

"Joly, breathe," Feuilly reminded his friend. "Come on Enjolras, you know him better than anyone. Is he?"

"Not that I know of. Have you missed his constant flirting with anything in a skirt? Besides, you guys have been going on about how he must have girls left right and centre with him disappearing every night. You changed your minds so fast?"

"They may not be girls. That'd certainly explain why he's been keeping things so quiet."

"They have a point there," Combeferre said quietly. "I mean, it's not like him to stay quiet about anything normally."

"I'm still not seeing it," Enjolras said firmly. "Now, if you don't mind, we're meant to be having a meeting here, not discussing which team my friend is on."

"There's a rally in the area next week," Bossuet said from the far side of the table, speaking for the first time that night. "Something to do with equal rights."

"How come there's no girls in the group?" Feuilly asked suddenly. "I mean, we can't really go along to this rally as a group of all boys. We wouldn't be taken seriously."

"The only girls who come are generally on Courf's arm, and they never join in our discussions," Bahorel pointed out. "None of the rest of us know any girls properly."

"There's Eponine," Courfeyrac suggested as he joined them.

"She's the waitress."

"And?" Enjolras retorted, leaning forwards to stare round at them all. "She's joined in our debates before when serving us. If she's on a day off, I don't see why she can't join us, whether she goes to the university or not. After all, we are known as The Friends. Surely we should be friends to everyone."

"It's settled then. Next time one of us sees her, we'll invite Eponine to join us." Courfeyrac settled back into his chair. "So what have I missed?"


"So the others were talking of rumours last night," Combeferre started, looking over his glasses at Courfeyrac. "Rumours about you."

"If these rumours are about where I go at night, I can assure you I'm not sleeping with every girl in the city. Will you stop worrying now?"

"That's not what I'm worrying about."

"Oh." Courfeyrac paused for a moment. "Then please, go on."

"Part of it was where you go at night, but they were simply changing their theories on that due to these rumours."

"Ahhh, the rumours about me being gay." Courfeyrac laughed. "I thought you knew me better than that, Combeferre. I have been, and always shall be, a ladies man."

"I know that." Combeferre wondered silently when his patience was going to run out with the older student. "Who was the man in your room last night?"

"Just a friend," Courfeyed lied smoothly. "He lost his key for his flat and his friends either weren't in or weren't waking up, so I said he could sleep on my floor for the night. That's why he said thanks when he was leaving."

"Courfeyrac, I do know you better than that. I know you well enough to know when you're lying." Courfeyrac visibly deflated a little.

"Look, I can't tell you," he said quietly, glancing round the room. "Just trust me, okay? I think I'm doing the right thing here, though you and others may not agree. I'm just helping a friend out because I'm not sure who else will, but that friend is staying nameless."

"Just keep yourself out of trouble," Combeferre replied finally, after studying Courfeyrac for a few moments. "And the rest of us as well. And if you need any help... Well, you know where to come."

"So you'll keep it quiet?"

"I will," he agreed. "Why are you letting the rumours go on though?"

"Because it's funny," Courfeyrac smirked. "I'm giving them a week, then I'll crush them completely." He brightened up suddenly. "Hey, did I tell you Jehan's coming down for Christmas? He booked the tickets yesterday."

"That's great," Combeferre smiled, relaxing and picking up his latest book. "How's he doing at college? I haven't spoken to him for a couple of weeks now, haven't had time."

As the conversation slipped into safer territory, Courfeyrac breathed a sigh of relief that Combeferre hadn't fought harder for the name of the man. Somehow he didn't think the name Grantaire would be cheering anyone up.