"You're staring again," Grantaire whispers out the side of his mouth.

"I am not!"

Jehan's argument would be stronger if he could take his eyes off Courfeyrac for a second to glare at Grantaire, but he can't seem to achieve even that. To be fair, there is an awful lot on display to be staring at tonight.

They are at the Amis Halloween party. Cosette is hosting it at her dad's house, who seems really cool with the whole thing.

"I've been having club parties here since I was in high school," Cosette told Jehan when he asked about it. "I had a pretty lonely childhood, so he always wants to make sure I can host my friends."

Jehan's not been to many parties (big shocker) and certainly never any Halloween ones. Halloween is for elaborate costumes and candy, for scary movies and decorating the house and pumpkin carving, not for awkward socializing in cramped spaces with alcohol.

Jehan hadn't even thought of the party as something that could possibly be happening until Feuilly had asked him if he was going. He didn't think anyone would mind his absence, but Feuilly started coughing he gasped so aggressively when Jehan said as much.

"But you have to come," Feuilly'd cried. "It's Halloween!"

"Yeah, exactly! Why would I want to spend Halloween at a party with alcohol?" – cue more flustered sputtering from Feuilly – "and aren't holiday parties not really within the club's purview?"

"Jehan, my sweet, sweet dumbass, that is where you are so wrong!"

Halloween, Feuilly had explained, is a big deal for a lot of members of the Amis, especially Enjolras. The club always works extra hard to make sure the October drive can go up early and leave time to celebrate Halloween because it's that big of a deal.

Grantaire, of course, had been no help: "There's a Halloween party? We have to go! And I am serious about the 'we' because if I go without you I'll revert back to irresponsible party Grantaire and get myself kicked out of the club." Grantaire had then turned on some damn good puppy eyes for someone with permanent "designer "eye bags (as he calls them.) "You don't want that to happen now do you, Jehan?"

So, because of the insufferable prodding of his "friends," Jehan is at his first Halloween party, instead of celebrating in a comfortably spooky way. It's also his first university party. Woohoo. It's a night of "fun" firsts.

"Oh sure, deny it all you want," Grantaire taunts. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." He tries to take another swig of his drink, but as it's difficult with his fake talons, he ends up spilling most of it on his grey collar. Jehan snorts. Karma can be a fast-acting bitch, and he likes that about her.

"You're one to talk," he retorts. "You didn't blink for like five minutes after Enj walked in."

"I was simply unprepared," R sniffs, with as much dignity as he can muster while wiping vodka off his spray-painted hoodie.

"You smell like the high school parking lot the day after graduation." Jehan mimes puking. Grantaire retaliates by pretending to spill the remainder of his drink on Jehan; thankfully Eponine walks by and interrupts this farce.

"A vodka-smelling gargoyle, very niche costume R," he flips her a taloned middle finger, "I love your dragon, Jehan! Did you do all those scales yourself?"

Jehan did not. He and Grantaire had been working on their costumes together pretty much as soon as they'd met. Grantaire made a lot from scratch – paper macher horns, torn clothes with spray paint, wooden frame wings – and Jehan had spent that construction time dyeing a pair of thrifted go-go boots maroon red. He already had a high-quality red cape that had been the pride and joy of his dress-up games as a kid, and Grantaire showed him how to make great dragon spikes with the excess paper macher stuff. But Jehan didn't know what to do with his face. He spent the weeks of October agonizing about it until Grantaire had explained he was going to be doing his own gargoyle makeup and could also do scales for Jehan.

Jehan hadn't known what to expect, especially because they skipped their last classes today just so Grantaire would have time to do both faces, but he was astounded with the results. R really knows what he's doing; for all intents and purposes, Jehan is a scaly, red dragon, and R did it with just some simple lines of makeup! His own gargoyle face is even more intense because he'd made it look like his horns were cracking through his forehead.

"I did Jehan's scales," Grantaire sneers lovingly at Ep. He sweeps into a bow, nearly knocking Jehan over with his wingspan, "so I thank you for the almost-compliment."

Eponine rolls her eyes, but Jehan can see she's fighting off a smile. Ep is dressed just in some black clothes, but she's got some white-faced ghoul makeup that's almost as impressive as Grantaire's work (her eyeliner game is pretty strong, probably from more regular practice.)

"Have you guys seen Marius?" she asks, with an affected nonchalance that doesn't fool either of them.

"Uh," Jehan taps his boot toe into the carpet, "he and Cosette went on an errand run for more candy. Dunno when they'll be back…."

"If they'll be back," Grantaire mutters into his vodka. Jehan gives him an incredulous glare.

"Look, if you want to punch him, I wouldn't object right now," he says by way of apology for his idiotic best friend.

"Nah, it's all good. Just point me in the direction of that Tequila Bahorel brought and I'll be right as rain." There is just the barest hint of a tremor in Eponine's voice. Jehan is impressed; maybe she should have auditioned for the drama program. He wants to give her a hug or even a simple pat on the arm, but he knows such a gesture would not be appreciated (he might just loose an arm for his troubles) so he and R dutifully point her in the direction of the table Bahorel set up by the kitchen.

When Eponine leaves, they're quiet again.

Jehan's attention drifts back over to the right side of the room, where the Golden Trio (as Musichetta has coined them) are hogging the chip bowl. Enjolras is decked out in an intensely detail-accurate Captain America costume, cowl and all. The massive shield he touted in when he arrived is currently serving as a bowl for candy in the center of the room. Jehan supposes he can understand Grantaire's (strong) reaction to the sight of the costume – Grantaire loves MCU comics and the cowl makes Enjolras' eyes look even more intense, which Jehan didn't think was possible. Combeferre's costume is equally as elaborate and impressive, though Jehan isn't quite sure who he is supposed to be with his aviator goggles and his top hat. Gentleman pilot, perhaps?

The most attention-grabbing is without a doubt Courfeyrac, of course, though Jehan likes to think this would be the case even without a massive crush on him. Courfeyrac has gone for a full gender-swap version of Wonder Woman, and it would be a lot to take in for anyone. Jehan's not sure where he found booty shorts and a bustier to fit him, there definitely had to have been sewing involved. There's a distracting amount of long leg and toned arm and shoulder to contend with. Jehan wants to stop staring, he does, but even when he succeeds in drawing his eyes away they always return. Courf is the magnetic center of any room for Jehan, but it's not like this is his day-to-day attire (of which Jehan is only just getting used to four weeks into knowing him properly.) If he can hardly take his eyes off Courfeyrac on a good day, how, pray tell, is he supposed to now?! And how is Courf not cold? Or maybe he is, and he's just suffering through it for the costume, in which case Jehan is very appreciative of his dedication…

Oh shit, oh fuck Courfeyrac is now walking over to where Jehan and Grantaire are stood by the wall! SHIT! Jehan hasn't talked to Courfeyrac since last Wednesday, in large part because whenever Courfeyrac comes up to a group Jehan is talking with Jehan runs away (Coping 101 folks!)

Jehan has spent all that time over-analysing the events of the past Wednesday. He's been obsessively opening and staring at the text chain where Courf sent his address and the time, just because he can. He's written poem after poem and listed scenario after scenario, some plausible and some very much not - Jehan daydreams an excessive amount for any human, but Grantaire and even Feuilly have definitely noticed that his head has been higher in the clouds than usual.

Talking with Courfeyrac right now would seem unavoidable, because he has made direct eye contact while walking over. He seems intent on talking to Jehan. Just his luck! This is why no good comes from Halloween parties!

Jehan makes a strangled sound that resembles the chickens on the farm.

"Jehan, what…? Oh." Grantaire catches sight of the Amazon warrior on the move and snickers. "I wasn't sure if I should follow Ep and see if she's alright, but suddenly I feel as though now is the perfect time to go."

"R, no! Don't leave me, plea…" Jehan tries to grab hold of Grantaire's arm, but the scaly gloves he has on prevent him from getting a good grip.

Grantaire shakes him off with ease and then leans in to whisper: "Just talk to him. Maybe you'll finally get an explanation about Wednesday and you can stop obsessing over it!"

But what if I don't want an explanation?

Ok, that's a half-lie. The truth is, Jehan wants an explanation, but only if it corroborates the daydreams he's been having. Having an explanation might quiet the pandemonium that's been Jehan's mind this last week and a half, but it will also put an end to all the things that could be possible. The dreaming ends once Jehan has an explanation! Although…while Jehan doesn't think anything will stop him completely from obsessing over what happened, he can admit to himself that it would be nice to think of something else before he falls asleep each night.

Grantaire makes his great escape just as Courfeyrac saunters up.

"Jehan! Long time no talk! Seems like we've been moving in different trajectories all week!"

"Haha…yeah…"

Courfeyrac slings the other end of his "Lasso of Truth" – aka a sparkly gold scarf – around his neck with a flourish. "We should put an end to that right now!" This declaration is louder than it needs to be, but no one pays any mind because it's just…it's Courfeyrac.

Jehan nods. He thinks Courf might be a little past tipsy, and though he knows the situation is completely different right now, he feels the stirrings of that old panic.

And then Courf drops some of the chipper-ness; he unslings his lasso scarf so he's hanging onto both ends and looks at his feet. Jehan forces himself to take a deep breath and actually feels a little calmer for it.

"I, uh. I have been meaning to talk to you about Wednesday."

Jehan feels his heart stutter. "Oh, yeah?" he hears himself say.

"Yeah, wanted to explain myself."

Jehan resorts to nodding again.

"The thing is, I just wanted to have a chance to hang out with you and let you get comfy in the space before the meeting started. I really like when I can host people, and I was like, mega excited you were coming. I was like 'Jehan's coming whoooo!'" He stumbles a little from the force of his imitation and Jehan finds himself giggling along. "But then I realized that everyone else at the meeting had been to my place before and you hadn't, and I thought, now Courfeyrac, you would be really stressed out in a situation like that so why don't you just ease Jehan into it? You could hang out with him one-on-one before business starts, which you've been dying to do! Win-win!"

Courfeyrac is breathless once he gets this last half out.

He was dying to hang out with me?!

Jehan says, "Why didn't you just ask me to come early?"

Courfeyrac sighs, and brings those alluring eyes up to Jehan's scale-decorated face. Jehan is suddenly very thankful this isn't one of his daydreams; who knew real life could be better at times?

"Because I'm an idiot and I forgot and then I was panicking 'cause it was like a day or two before and I didn't account for 'Ferre being the keener he is…It was dumb, and I'm sorry. Long and short, I should have just been honest. I'm sorry."

Well, as far as explanations/apologies go…

He wanted to see me! One-on-one!

"You're not an idiot," Jehan says. Then he mocks a demanding tone: "Just see to it that this never happens again!"

Courfeyrac salutes him, "Sir, yes, sir!"

A familiar pop beat starts to float from the speakers on the other side of the room.

"Aw, hell yes!" Courf cheers. Someone turns the volume up so everyone can hear as Michael Jackson starts to sing Thriller. Courf starts singing too, he knows all the words so far, and Jehan feels something not anxiety-related (for a change) hitch in his chest. Courfeyrac performed at the winter clothing drive last weekend, but he was onstage, so it was a lot like all the times Jehan has seen him at the club showcase. This is the first time he's been this close while Courfeyrac sings, and somehow the fact that no one else can hear him over the party ruckus makes it all the more breathtaking.

Jehan feels a smile split across his face; Courf starts busting out the moves once the song reaches the chorus. Jehan is content to bop along to the beat as best he can with his limited rhythm, until…

"Oh come on, you can do better than that!" Courfeyrac cries, and that's all the prompting it takes for Jehan to start dancing like he's never danced before. It's a lot of flailing arms and he almost falls twice, but that's all overthrown by Courf's smile. Jehan finds it hard to breathe through all the laughter sparking between the two of them. Being in rhythm doesn't matter either, because Jehan can't really hear the music over Courf's wheezing breaths as he laughs and still tries to sing along. He manages quite well. Jehan's heart drums a fast, wild drum in his ears and he's pretty sure he likes the sound of that joyful beat more than any music right now anyway.

Then Jehan sees something that stops him in his tracks. Since Thriller, the carpeted area has become something of a dance floor, and not too far from where he and Courf have been dancing, Jehan sees Enjolras and Grantaire doing the same.

Courfeyrac stops moving because he sees the surprise on Jehan's face.

"What?" he asks, and then: "Oh my GOD."

"Does Enjolras frequent the dance floor often?" Jehan stage whispers, so Courf can still hear him over the music.

"No, never, really."

They exchange a knowing look, confirming once and for all that Courf has been just as aware as Jehan since day one of…whatever this is that's happening between Enj and R.

They go back to dancing, albeit with less mirth than before so they can both sneak surreptitious glances at the unlikely dance partners.

Grantaire has taken his wings off, a wise course of action, Jehan thinks, and Enjolras has done the same with his cowl. He had his hair in a bun underneath it, but now the top half is coming undone. Neither he nor Grantaire seems to mind. And it's not like they're slow-dancing (that would be impressive and strange to see to the Addams' Family theme song) but they're definitely dancing together, closer than Jehan and Courfeyrac are. They're both really good too, at least to Jehan's untrained eye, another hidden talent that warrants yelling at Grantaire when they get home (they're having a spooky movie marathon after this.)

Eventually, he and Courf wear themselves out – of dancing and of spying - and move into the kitchen; it was full of people at one point, but they can hear the sounds of what must be an intense game of beer pong coming from the living room where the others surely have migrated. Through some unspoken agreement, Jehan and Courf stay in the kitchen, breathing heavily from all the flailing and shouting.

"Can I get you something?" Courfeyrac asks.

"Sure, if it doesn't have alcohol in it. Thanks."

They stand there in the relative quiet, sipping their drinks and leaning on the counter. They don't talk much, but Jehan doesn't mind at the moment. Maybe it's the late hour. Maybe Courf's voice is spent from shouting along to all the songs. Maybe their costumes afford them some distance from the rushing rapids of usual thoughts that barge in on silence. Or maybe Jehan is finally starting to feel comfortable around his friend Courfeyrac, finally starting to believe they are truly friends. Honestly, achieving this level of comfort while your crush is standing right there in booty shorts deserves some kind of award.

"I started getting some chords down for that piece you helped me with."

"Nice! I…I'd love to hear it sometime." Jehan is proud of himself for getting those words out; though it's the truth, it feels like admitting way too much.

"Yeah?" Courf looks pleased, and also a little like he doesn't believe Jehan means it.

"Yeah!" Jehan says as sincerely as he can muster. "I want to hear it come to life as a song. I mean, I think I get some credit for getting the ball rolling again."

Courfeyrac chuckles. "True, true. Well, then, do you wanna maybe come over sometime this week or the next? Just a hangout this time, no deception or Amis meetings, Combeferre won't make an appearance, I promise…"

"I'd really like that! Sounds fun."

And if Jehan's grip tightens exponentially on his drink in an effort to not squeal with joy, Courf either doesn't notice or is kind enough not to comment.

"Four!"

Grantaire's chewed-on pencil flies through the air, narrowly missing Jehan's nose.

As if that wouldn't already do the trick, Grantaire waves his hands aggressively in front of Jehan's face.

"Earth to Jehan! Did you even hear the question I asked?"

Jehan feels himself rudely being brought back down to earth, feels the conversation he was having in Courfeyrac's room full of bean bag chairs evaporate from his consciousness. Now he won't remember the details when he picks the daydream up again before he goes to bed!

"Was that really necessary?"

"Did you hear my question?"

Jehan really hates when Grantaire counters his questions with perfectly valid questions of his own.

He hates when Grantaire is right even more.

"Noooo," Jehan sticks out his tongue, "could you please repeat it?"

Grantaire gives him a Reprimanding Eyebrow, but there's a smile to go along with it.

"Which ancient philosopher sang phallic songs to worship Dionysus?"

"Aristotle!" Jehan chirps, with no hesitation, and Grantaire groans.

"Can we stop?" He puts the notebook with their study questions over his face before Jehan can even respond.

"But we're studying!"

"I'm trying to study, you're daydreaming about going over to Courfeyrac's again. And you know all this already."

Jehan feels he should be annoyed Grantaire wants to stop early, but he can't really muster the emotion, not when R's one hundred percent right again (damn him!)

"Do you want me to ask the questions then?"

"No, I want to stop studying and go for ice cream."

Jehan raises an eyebrow of his own. Grantaire lets the notebook slide off his face and looks over when Jehan doesn't say anything back.

"What?" he asks. "I'm already doing better in this class than my advisor ever thought possible thanks to you, I can chill over this quiz." He stands up. "Plus, it's almost my birthday, so I say we should go!"

"Ok, ok," Jehan concedes. "I could use something to get me out of my head."

"You're telling me!" Grantaire grabs his knapsack and slides his feet into his sneakers without untying the laces (they got a foot of snow last night and Grantaire still won't wear his winter boots.) "Is this good 'stuck in your head' or bad?"

Jehan isn't sure how to answer. Both? All? None of the above? He shrugs, though it may get lost in the shuffle of putting his winter coat on over his fluffy sweater (the price of wanting ice cream in November.) Grantaire must decide to drop it, because he doesn't prod any further all the way to the ice cream shop.

Grantaire spends at least five minutes stomping the snow off his shoes when they get there, and Jehan feels an epic 'I-told-you-so' moment coming on.

"My socks are wet!" R complains.

"Then wear your fucking boots!" Jehan hisses. They peter off into giggles and then silence, caught up in the intense concentration of deciding what flavour and toppings they want.

It isn't until after they've paid and are trudging back to Grantaire's place through the growing dusk that he seems to remember their original topic before the walk.

"You seem less freaked out about going to Courf's again."

There's so much nonchalance in that statement that Jehan thinks Grantaire must have been waiting for what he determined was the appropriate amount of time between discussions to bring it up once more.

"I feel more chill about it, definitely."

R scoffs. "You don't have a single chill bone in your body!"

"I know that, I said more chill, not that I had normal chill levels. Jeez."

"Jeez!" Grantaire pitches his voice abnormally high. Frankly, the most insulting part is that Jehan's voice is barely a different pitch than his friend's…That's why he waits one more block before shoving Grantaire just hard enough he almost drops his ice cream. Jehan's fairly certain the pitches of Grantaire's anguished "MY ICECREAM!" cries go into soprano ranges, but he'll have to ask Courfeyrac when he sees him at Saturday's meeting.

He almost finds himself telling the ice cream tale to Courf before the meeting starts, while Grantaire is occupied with some kind of advanced game of thumb-war with Bahorel on Jehan's other side, but Feuilly runs in at the last second.

"Sorry I'm late y'all!" He throws his stuff into the entrance behind him and plops down in the nearest empty sitting space.

"Great!" Enjolras claps his hands together and rubs them like he's plotting someone's downfall (it's more likely than not). "We can start the meeting now, if Grantaire and Bahorel would be so kind to put up their thumbs?"

Grantaire smirks, but his eyes are warm: "Oh, anything for you, Apollo." He winks lazily up at Enj, but dutifully turns away from Bahorel and crosses his arms to show he's listening. Enjolras nods once in response; he looks at the ground for the briefest of seconds – Jehan wonders if he's reading too much into that action - and then launches into progress reports on the campaign against Thenardier. Jehan glances to his left to see if Courfeyrac noticed Enjolras' pause, only to see Courf pursing his lips and looking right back out of the corner of his eye. Jehan raises his eyebrow in his best attempt at Grantaire's You Seeing What I'm Seeing? look. Courfeyrac nods shortly and raises his own dark eyebrow (Jehan loves how thick they are, they make him think of engineers running a steam engine.) Now, Jehan is not as fluent in Courf's faces as he is R's, but he's fairly certain that nod and eyebrow raise combo means 'Affirmative, my dude!'

Jehan is…kind of very relieved Feuilly was late today. It has left lots of time to talk with Courfeyrac by himself. And they have been talking, about everything of consequence and nothing of concern. It's the first time he and Courf have held a two-way conversation surrounded by other people, and Jehan feels an odd, prickling sense of pride as he wonders if anyone else has noticed. He thinks Grantaire must have, because he's occupied himself with Bahorel ever since the buff man sat down, not turning to look slyly back at Jehan even once. Jehan appreciates the effort that must've taken to refrain from teasing.

He's wondering if Feuilly noticed Jehan and Courfeyrac chatting it up like old chums (that claim is barely even far-fetched!) but before he can dive into imagining how Feuilly might feel, the meeting proper begins.

It's a good meeting. Enjolras is in fine form, full of fiery action and planning. The petition is going so well Combeferre has to print more paper copies of the petition as well as designate someone to respond to club emails in a timely manner – this role goes to Joly because he is the only one who rivals Combeferre in neatness.

The newspaper articles are doing well too. The newspaper committee has reported that there's been a slight increase in views and sales since they began. Enjolras had invited Jehan to read his first piece for the paper the Saturday it was published and the other members responded with great fervor. He got two punches in the arm for making both Bahorel and Eponine tear up! Bossuet also teared up but even Jehan knows Bossuet cries at the drop of a hat so that was less punch-worthy. Musichetta wrote the article for this week's edition and it's been paired with a testimony from a female student Thenardier frequently harassed last year. Jehan is very excited to see what responses it gets.

Some of Enjolras' captivating conviction drops off as the meeting runs to a close. If Jehan had to guess, he'd say Enjolras was nervous or embarrassed about something, but that's impossible. He doesn't think embarrassment is an emotion Enjolras can feel? The closest adjacent emotion Jehan has seen was a sheepish apologetic quality when things got out of hand, and that was with Combeferre's prompting.

Jehan doesn't have the means to communicate all this to Courfeyrac in the middle of the meeting, so he keeps it to himself.

The cause of it all is soon made evident anyway: Enjolras clears his throat in a request for attention.

"Before the meeting ends, I'd like to just draw attention to the fact that someone," here the leader pauses for dramatic effect, and Jehan is struck by the notion that Enjolras would also make a talented drama student at times, "is turning 20 tomorrow." Jehan bites his cheek to keep his emotions off his face. He doesn't dare turn to look at Grantaire, though he can feel his arm stiffen imperceptibly.

"So, let's all give Grantaire our best Les Amis de L'ABC birthday wishes!"

The rest of the club members cheer and launch into a very chaotic and very complex rendition of Happy Birthday. There are several verses, with increasingly dirty and pun-filled lyrics written by Courf and Bahorel on one infamous night out. Courfeyac proudly told Jehan neither of them recalled writing the song, but when they woke on Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta's couch, there were three napkins beside their heads with all the "new and improved" lyrics.

Jehan finally turns to gauge Grantaire's reaction. His friend's mouth is stretched wide and his eyes don't seem to know where to look. He keeps taking in breaths and then not letting them out. When Grantaire's eyes land on Jehan, they narrow with

(correctly placed) suspicion. Grantaire mouths 'Did you do this?' Jehan shrugs innocently, then joins in the song, proud of himself for remembering most of the dirty lyrics and confirming for Grantaire that Jehan most definitely ratted to Enjolras about his birthday.

He feels too proud of himself for pulling this off to be worried – Enjolras was the one to bring it up in the meeting, and he was flustered! Jehan is positive there might be hope for these two idiots and their feelings yet.

The bright and brimming look on Grantaire's face is worth all the crap Jehan might get from him later anyway.