Notes: Thanks again to the wonderful Meeni (demonsonthemoon) for being an A+ beta and translator. (I've only taken two years of French, not nearly enough to write for this without her help, so she's like three-quarters of the reason this exists.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Day One
Paris, France
102 Rue Gabriel Peri, Saint-Denis

Enjolras had flown for fifteen hours and arrived at the hotel at five AM. It wasn't really that early for him, but the flight had exhausted him so he got to the small room furnished only with a full-sized bed, a small desk, and a three drawer dresser with a small TV on top and collapsed on the bed. It was like changing time zones made his body realize exactly how tired he was.

He slept until noon. He woke groggily and walked blearily to the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off and stepped into the shower. The hot water was very effective in waking him up and when he stepped out he was refreshed and if he were home, he'd be ready to start a revolution. But he wasn't, so he settled for checking his phone. There were five missed calls and ten texts.

From Courfeyrac: did u land yet?
From Courfeyrac: answer ur phone man
From Courfeyrac: the only excuse ill accept for this is that u already got some french ass
From Combeferre: Courf says you're not answering your phone. This is good.
From Courfeyrac: if u did get some french ass i expect full details.
From Combeferre: I hope you're getting rest.
From Joly: Ferre said you should have landed by now. Make sure you use hand sanitizer, I heard that French subways are really dirty.
From Courfeyrac: its been 4 hrs since u landed
From Courfeyrac: must be sum good sex
From Courfeyrac: does he have a brother? sister? hot cousin?

Enjolras sighed as he pulled on a shirt. He typed out a quick text to Courfeyrac.

To Courfeyrac: I didn't have sex at 5AM. I was sleeping.

A call came not a minute later. Enjolras answered.

"I heard you slept," Combeferre said. "He slept?!" Bahorel yelled from the background.

"Are you in the Musée?"

"Yeah, we're gossiping about you," Combeferre joked. "Musichetta called us a group of old ladies."

Enjolras heard a fight for the phone. "Enjolras!" Courfeyrac yelled. The others chimed in, signaling him that he was on speaker.

"Hi guys," he said.

"So you didn't immediately hop on the hot French boys over there, I'm disappointed in you."

"But I was sleeping, wasn't that what the whole vacation was for."

"Yes, but also we wanted you to have some fun. What time is it over there anyway?"

"Noon," Enjolras answered.

"You slept until twelve?!" Joly shouted happily.

"It's six AM here," Courf said, then added, "Joly woke us all up two hours ago because he thought he had pneumonia then we couldn't go back to sleep."

"I didn't even know the Musée opened that early."

"Musichetta had keys and made us all some lovely lattes."

"So what do you plan on doing today?" Bossuet asked, punctuating the sentence with a yawn.

"I don't really know," Enjolras answered truthfully. "I bought a book at the airport but I finished it on the plane."

"You were planning on reading the whole trip?" Courfeyrac asked, shocked.

"Well, I don't really know what to do here. I bought a French dictionary just in case but…"

"Great!" Courf interrupted.

"Go sightseeing," Joly followed.

"You have to see the Eiffel Tower," Musichetta added. "It's iconic."

"Notre Dame?" Combeferre suggested.

"You can't just sit in your hotel room for a month," Bahorel said.

Enjolras feeling a bit overwhelmed with the influx of voices. "Wait-"

"Nope. No protestations from you, my dear," Musichetta said.

"You're going out even if it means we have to fly there ourselves," Bahorel added.

"Get up, get dressed, you're going to see Paris," Courf said.

"And we want photographic proof," Combeferre added smugly, the smartass.

"Fine, fine, I'll go out, you assholes," Enjolras said, relenting.

"Good. Now stop talking to us when you should be sightseeing," Courfeyrac replied.

Enjolras sighed and hung up.

He opened his computer and logged on. The infernal welcoming screen popped up again. He glared as he closed it. He opened up the internet where he discovered his friends also happened to change his home page to a porn site. He looked up to the heavens and cursed his entire friend group to eternal damnation.

He sighed as he searched for landmarks in Paris. He jotted down a few on a sticky note. He went to Google maps and found metro routes which he wrote down as well. He grabbed his messenger bag and put his wallet, the pocket French book, and his laptop (he never went anywhere without it; it was often joked that Enjolras had two mistresses, Patria and his computer). He tucked his phone into his pocket, went downstairs and stepped into the street.

He walked about ten minutes until he got to the metro station where he bought his ticket. Luckily there was an option to have the instructions in English. This transit was going to be the longest of the day: one hour total with two line changes. He got on the train and found a seat in the back, if he was going to be here for an hour, it definitely wouldn't be standing.
He sat in silence for a while before he remembered the whole "photographic evidence" thing. Enjolras sneered at the thought but pulled out his phone anyway. He tried looking like he was texting while he snapped a quick photo of the creepy plumber sitting across from him. He sent it to Combeferre with the text, hour long subway ride across from this guy.

Apparently the group was still at the Musée because about five minutes later Courf texted him: hes cute. u should ask for his nombre lol. ;)

He texted back, I think that's Spanish, Courf.

same difference. they both derive from latin.

Enjolras didn't grace that with a reply. Eventually it was time for him to get off the subway and walk to the Eiffel Tower. He arrived there and looked up. It was kind of a let down, really. It was pretty big tower, but he wasn't sure why it was so world famous. He stood in front of it and turned his phone around, snapping a picture of him (not smiling) with the tower in the background. He sent it to Combeferre, assuming that if they weren't still a the Musée, he would make sure the others saw it somehow. The text read: Actually not that impressive. The replies came within moments.

From Joly: But its an engineering marvel!
From Musichetta: Smile you look like youre about to murder a puppy.
From Bossuet: But it's beautiful! Look at it!
From Courfeyrac: Cheer up. Paris! Remember.

Enjolras huffed a laugh as he read them. He checked the sticky note with places to go and decided on Hôtel des Invalides where, he read, Napoleon was buried. As he walked the twenty minute trek there, he (not very seriously) considered Courf's suggestion to piss on his grave. When he got there he spent a good ten minutes turning the full force of his glare on the casket before flipping it off and taking a picture of the moment. He sent the photo as he was walking out.

He was on the metro to Notre Dame when his phone rang.

"Tell me you got kicked out for that," Courf said, a bit too much hope in his voice.

"No," Enjolras replied, "I left before they could do anything. But I did catch a few shocked faces."

Courf laughed. "Shame. I'll make sure you get kicked out of somewhere before you get back."

Enjolras shook his head, the thought of why the fuck did I chose this group of friends evident on his face. "Don't get him kicked out of anywhere, Courf," he heard Combeferre chime in.

"You know if you try to stop me, I'll only try to get him banned from somewhere," he replied, turning away from the phone.

"Don't try to get me banned or kicked out," Enjolras said.

Courfeyrac just laughed and hung up. Enjolras, not for the last time that day, cursed his friends to damnation.

He got off the metro and walked to the cathedral. When he was inside he took a picture of the rose window and sent it. A few minutes later he received a text from Bossuet as he was walking past the prayer chapel. He opened it and an audio clip of the last line of The Bells of Notre Dame started playing. He jumped but recovered quickly enough to turn off the music. He hid his face in his hands, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He looked up to see a majority of the people around him either staring open-mouthed or gaping at him. He apologized briefly and quickly walked out of the church.

As he angrily walked away, not really paying attention to where he was going, he pulled out his phone about to type an angry reply when Bossuet texted, omg I'm so sorry Courf stole my phone and sent that I really hope you don't get kicked out.

He replied, Don't worry, I left before they could do anything.

Then he sent to Courf, fuck you very much.

Had fun with that?

The amount of glares I received may have caused permanent damage to my pride.

aw the poor angry puppy :'(

Enjolras didn't reply.

At that moment he walked past a small café, but stopped when he smelled a delicious platter of heaven-flavored food being brought out to the terrace. His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten all day. He turned around and walked into the café.

He sat down at the bar. He looked around and saw that the man tending the bar was more than a little attractive. Dark haired and blue eyed and he had colorful tattoo sleeves on both arms. He was laughing at something his friend and fellow waiter had just said and goddamn it if that wasn't the best sound Enjolras heard in his entire life. The waiter looked around and noticed Enjolras. He walked up to him and said quickly, "Bonjour, monsieur. Je m'appelle Grantaire. Que désirez-vous aujoud'hui?"

Enjolras blanched and started fumbling in his bag for his French book. Grantaire laughed again, "Ah, vous êtes américain." He smiled as he switched to heavily-accented English, "Hello, my name's Grantaire. What can I get you today?"

Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh God, sorry I don't speak French. Can I get an espresso and…" he glanced at the menu on the chalk board above him. Everything was in French so he just went with what appeared to be the daily special (plat du jour?) "Um… and the boeuf en Daube," he said (with terrible pronunciation).

Grantaire laughed at his valiant effort to speak just that little bit of French. "Très bon choix. I will get that for you." He turned to the kitchen window behind the bar and shouted to the chef, "Une commande de boeuf en daube avec un espresso." He smiled at Enjolras again as he walked back to his friend.

Enjolras saw him say something under his breath and his friend laughing in response. The next thing he knew they were both walking up to him and Grantaire was leaning on the bar. The friend, who had long blonde hair tied in a braid and was wearing floral patterned boots to give a splash of color to his all black uniform, was smiling sweetly at Enjolras. Enjolras was very confused.

The friend spoke then, "Bonjour, my name is Jehan and Grantaire asked me to translate a conversation with you two."

Grantaire turned to his friend and said in a half-sarcastic, half-sincere tone, "Parce qu'il est comme Apollon incarné, n'oublie pas ça, c'est la partie la plus importante."

Jehan laughed and continued, "Because, according to him, you're like Apollo incarnate."

Enjolras' smile slowly spread across his face. "Okay, Grantaire."

Notes: Once again, all places are real. The Musain itself is located on Rue de Grès (which doesn't exist, but that Hugo said, so I'm going with it), but there is a cafe on 3 Place Saint-Michel near where the Musain would be called Saint-Séverin (apparently it's great if you're French, not so great if you're not). Also, all times given are accurate transit times for certain routes. The hostel Enjolras is staying at is also real, called Eurohotel St Denis on the same address given. The reviews made it sound pretty shitty and I figured the Les Amis would want to give Enjolras even more of an excuse to get out with a crap hotel.
My tumblr is montparn-assbutt and feed back is greatly appreciated and loved.