Howdy, so yeah, this is a de-aged Enjolras fic. No warnings apply to this chapter.
"Toothbrush?"
"Check!"
"Toothpaste?"
"Check!"
"Hairbrush?"
"Honestly Ferre, I'm not a child!"
"Then where's your hairbrush?"
"... Uhm… I'll be back in a second…" Enjolras was currently in Combeferre's room on a Friday night, watching his two best friends go over the contents of their already packed suitcases from Combeferre's bed.
Courfeyrac re-entered the room, now newly accompanied by a red hairbrush, which he held loosely in his left hand. "Is the hairbrush really necessary, Combeferre?" He whined, promptly packing it into his suitcase anyways, which was blue, in contrast to Combeferre's black one. The two suitcases lay at the foot of the bed, Combeferre hovering around them, whilst Enjolras was sprawled out on the bed behind them, propping his head up with a hand underneath his chin, while the rest of his body lay flat.
"Honestly Courf, your hair's short, you've nothing to complain about," Enjolras commented from his spot on the bed, Courfeyrac rolling his eyes,
"But it's curly," He defended, Enjolras sweeping his own long blonde curls, which were tied back with a red ribbon, into his face. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes, but didn't complain any further about the hairbrush. He examined the suitcases quickly, opening his up and giving it a quick glance over, before declaring,
"There, we've packed everything we need!"
"I think we should double-check," Combeferre came in, Enjolras and Courfeyrac collectively rolling their eyes.
"Oh, alright," Combeferre said, "You don't have to double-check yours Courfeyrac, but I'm going to double-check mine. And if you forget pants you cannot borrow mine."
"Okay, okay," Courfeyrac exclaimed, grabbing Combeferre's arm, "C'mon, let's all watch a movie or something, it is a Friday night, we're all off work today, by some stroke of fate, and we're not going to see Enj for another two weeks starting tomorrow!" He said. Combeferre sighed, pushing his spectacles, which had begun to slide, further up, before shrugging,
"I suppose," Combeferre gave in, Courfeyrac grinning. Enjolras stretched out even farther across the bed,
"We are not watching 'The Lion King' again," He muttered, Courfeyrac frowning,
"Oh, fine!" He replied, shaking his head at Enjolras, "If you stretch anymore, you've oughta be a cat," He teased, before skipping out of the room. Enjolras hoisted himself into a sitting position with a grunt.
"Well, come, apparently, we're watching a movie," Combeferre said, Enjolras rolling off the bed and onto his feet, the two friends exiting the room together.
"Courfeyrac, I thought I said no Lion King," Enjolras said, sitting down on the couch in the living room, which Courfeyrac was already occupying. Combeferre sat in between them.
"It's not The Lion King, it's The Lion King 1 ½!" Courfeyrac defended. Enjolras refrained from face-palming, as he glared at the offending TV screen. Combeferre just laughed.
"We'll probably be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow, Enj, we're going rather early." Combeferre informed, Enjolras nodding,
"I know, you've told me only a million times," He replied, Combeferre simply patting his shoulder affectionately, before leaning back on the couch, letting Courfeyrac's head fall across his lap, and Enjolras press against his side. Somehow, no matter what movie he was watching with someone else, he always ended up being the one who had everyone leaning against him. He didn't mind it though, as he liked the feeling of someone else's body against his own.
The movie progressed slowly, Combeferre only vaguely interested, since he'd seen all of the Lion King (And Frozen) movies over and over again, thanks to Courfeyrac. Around the time everything went wrong in the movie, Combeferre felt Enjolras go limp beside him. He paused, glancing over the younger man. His eyes were closed shut, and his breathing had slowed. He had fallen asleep. Combeferre gave him a fond look. He didn't really blame Enjolras for drifting off. It was strange, though. Enjolras didn't normally fall asleep without at least an hour of coaxing from some else.
Enjolras did wake up, though, right at the end of the movie, bleary-eyed and yawning. Courfeyrac looked slightly annoyed that he'd missed the middle of the movie, but didn't comment. Combeferre gently stroked Enjolras' hair, Enjolras giving him a slight smile.
"It is around time for some form of supper." Combeferre commented, Courfeyrac grinning,
"Yep, it's my turn to put it together!" He said, vanishing into the kitchen, which was attached to the small living room. Enjolras stood up,
"Well, I have work to get back to, tell me when the sandwiches are made, we both know that's all he can make." He told Combeferre.
"Oh, like you're much better," Combeferre smirked, and Enjolras walked into his bedroom, which was to the left of Combeferre's. He sat down on his bed, which looked largely untouched, since he barely had time to use it at all, pulling his laptop from his desk onto his lap, and scrolling through the digital design ideas Grantaire had sent him, at Feuilly's advice. They were all amazing, not that Enjolras would ever admit it, of course. He sent a quick email of thanks to Grantaire before spending a couple of minutes working on an article he had started a few days ago. It was supposed to be a call to action, but so far it was largely uninspiring. Pain shot up and down through his arms, and he flinched. That was fine though, he had probably just irritated them from typing too fast.
Enjolras gave a growl of frustration at the article. The words just weren't coming to him the way they usually did. The slight headache he seemed to have suddenly acquired wasn't much of a help either. He was just about to slam his laptop shut in defeat, when his door opened,
"Enj, sustenance, now." Combeferre demanded from the doorway. Enjolras closed his laptop, more gently then he had previously been about to do, and stood up. His legs ached as much as his arms, and were shaky. If Combeferre noticed Enjolras' slight wince, he didn't comment on it, to which Enjolras was grateful, as he set his laptop on his black-painted desk, which was covered in scattered papers and slogan-signs.
Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras all shared a large apartment. It was originally supposed to be a short term thing, only through college, but the rent was better with all three of them living together, and even though they had their moments, they generally enjoyed each other's company. Grantaire had officially declared them "platonic husbands," and the only one who had objected was Enjolras, though that was mainly for the sake of objecting.
Their "dining room" was really just the corner of their living room, which held a small table with a rug underneath it. Courfeyrac had set down three plates with sandwiches (No surprise there) on the table, and was sitting in his usual seat, swinging his legs randomly. They didn't usually all eat together, due to conflicting schedules, but they did it when they could, and they all took turns cooking. Though, Combeferre was really the only one who could cook a full meal. Courfeyrac's mother had only taught him how to make various types of sandwiches, and Enjolras was notorious for accidentally setting things on fire.
Combeferre and Enjolras joined Courfeyrac at the table, Combeferre rolling his eyes at Courfeyrac's food choice.
"Someday, I will teach you and Enjolras to properly cook." Combeferre said.
"I can cook," Enjolras said, laying his head on the table in a rather dejected manner. Combeferre rolled his eyes,
"Without setting something or someone on fire." Combeferre said pointedly.
"That was once, and Joly was fine!" Enjolras argued, Combeferre shaking his head, and cautiously taking a bite of his sandwich. It was deemed acceptable, and he took another bite, Courfeyrac already halfway done.
"So," Courfeyrac said, leaning back in his chair, which Combeferre no longer bothered to scold him for. If he cracked open his head from falling, that was his fault. "I've got a new date, that one guy from the club I was talking about." Combeferre quirked an eyebrow,
"What happened to the last one?" Combeferre inquired. Courfeyrac shrugged,
"Lost interest in her," He responded. Combeferre refrained from rolling his eyes at his friend.
"Hey, Enj, eat," Combeferre prompted, placing his hand on Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras was still slumped on the table, his cheek pressed to it. Enjolras lifted his head, giving Combeferre an indiscernible look.
"So, you know we're going to be out before you wake up?" Combeferre pressed once more.
"One million and one." Enjolras grumbled. Combeferre chose to ignore that,
"We'll be back in two weeks, and you'd better take care of yourself. Bahorel, Feuilly, and Eponine are still in town, so you can go to them if anything bad happens. Oh, and Grantaire too, I suppose. Courfeyrac's family is a good days drive away, but we're always here when you need us, and you can call us at any time." Combeferre said. Enjolras nodded,
"I know, Ferre'," He responded, Courfeyrac taking his plate into the kitchen, sandwich now gone. Combeferre followed him in about a minute, also having finished his. Enjolras just stared at his own, his stomach shifting uneasily. He didn't feel like eating. And his arms and legs really did ache…
"Enjolras?" Combeferre walked over to him, a quizzical expression on his face.
"I… Don't feel well." Enjolras murmured, before realizing what he had said. His eyes widened, and he quickly tried to take it back, "N-no, I'm fine!" But Combeferre was already giving him a worried look.
"C'mere Enj," Combeferre ordered, sitting down on the sofa, and beckoning Enjolras over with a wave of his hand. Enjolras crossed his arms,
"I'm fine, Combeferre," He growled, Combeferre shaking his head,
"Nope. Come. Here. Enjolras." Combeferre repeated in a more intense tone, that could rival one of Enjolras' rather passionate speech voices. Enjolras sighed, exasperated, and perhaps a little frightened, and sat next to Combeferre. Combeferre instantly placed the back of his hand on Enjolras forehead, frowning,
"A touch warm," He noted, Enjolras leaning against the couch with a scowl.
"What else is wrong, mon ami?" Combeferre asked, Enjolras giving him a defiant look. "If you wish for me to stop pestering you, you ought to answer." Combeferre warned. Enjolras sighed,
"My head hurts, a little." He admitted, Combeferre giving him a look that read "And?" He sighed again, "My arms and legs ache." He added. Combeferre glanced him over, placing his palm on Enjolras' forehead, where he had once rested the back of his hand, and sweeping a few stray curls from his eyes.
"Are you dizzy, or nauseous?" Combeferre inquired, slipping into what Courfeyrac teasingly called his "doctor tone." Courfeyrac was watching the entire event half-amusedly, and half-worriedly from the small chair in the corner of the room that did not occupy a table.
"No?" Enjolras tried, Combeferre giving him a scrutinizing glare. "Yes," He muttered. Combeferre thought for a second,
"It sounds like the beginning of the stomach flu," He guessed, rubbing Enjolras' arm, "That's alright, I can stay here with you, Courf can go visit his parents." Enjolras gave him a wide-eyed looked, frantically shaking his head,
"No, Combeferre, it's okay, I'm probably fine!" He protested.
"No, you're not, besides Enj, I don't mind," Combeferre attempted to reassure him.
"Well I do! You've been looking forward to this for ages! You deserve this break, and you shouldn't miss it because I'm coming down with some small cold, or something of the sort." Enjolras argued. Combeferre still firmly held his gaze, refusing to back down,
"I'm not coming back to find you half dead, your health is more important then a small trip!" Combeferre exclaimed, Courfeyrac looking like he desperately wanted to get involved, but having some basic self-preservation instincts, no matter how faint they were.
"I'm not going to die, Combeferre. Besides, I should learn to take care of myself, you're always saying that, right?" Enjolras said.
"Don't you twist my words. That's about eating, and other basic things." Combeferre defended.
"Still seems to fall into the category." Enjolras replied. Combeferre gave a long, frustrated groan. It was a stupid idea to argue with someone such as Enjolras, who had been the best in the three different debate clubs he had attended.
"Alright, here's a deal, if I have one the amis still here check in on you everyday, make sure you've eaten, and take your temperature, without you making it difficult for them, then I'll go." Combeferre offered, Enjolras letting out a long suffering growl.
"Fine," He complied, as much as it pained him. He knew Combeferre desperately needed a break, and how much he wanted to go on the trip.
"And if your temperature goes over 103, I'm coming right back," Combeferre added, Enjolras gritting his teeth, swallowing his pride, and nodding.
"You promise?" Courfeyrac chided, making his way to Enjolras' other side, finally chiming in.
"Fine." Enjolras muttered. Combeferre gave him a satisfied look, standing up,
"Come on now, let's get you some Tylenol, and into bed," He said, hoisting Enjolras to his feet. Enjolras groaned,
"I'm fine, Ferre'," He grumbled, but let Combeferre pull him into the kitchen anyways, Courfeyrac tagging along. After Enjolras had taken a healthy dose of pain reliever, he was soon forced into bed, despite his weak protests. Combeferre sat on the edge of his bed, on top of his main blanket, which resembled a French flag (What was wrong with being a little patriotic?).
"It's only 9:00." Enjolras complained, Combeferre stroking the side of his face,
"You need rest, Enjolras." Combeferre whispered, embracing him tightly. "Oh, I'll miss you so, Enj," He murmured, Enjolras smiling, and clinging to him in turn.
"As shall I," He breathed, Combeferre pulling back, and holding him by the shoulders,
"Promise me you'll do everything I asked, please," He begged, Enjolras yawning quietly, apparently tired, his body playing traitor to him,
"I promise." He responded, Combeferre gripping his hands, and fondly rubbing his thumbs over them, before he gently pushed Enjolras down into a lying position.
"Rest," He ordered, though in a soft voice, and he kissed Enjolras' forehead lightly, before walking out of the room, Courfeyrac walking in. He sat in the same place Combeferre had.
"I'm really going to miss you, Enjy," He voiced, Enjolras raising an eyebrow,
"I told you to stop calling me that!" He exclaimed, Courfeyrac grinning,
"There's the fearless leader we all love and admire." He joked, Enjolras rolling his eyes.
"Oh, I will miss you though, that's not a joke," He said in a more serious tone. Enjolras gave him a slight smile,
"Much as I loathe to admit it, I think we're all dangerously bordering the line of unhealthy in our codependency." He said, Courfeyrac laughing,
"Hah, you may just be right, but what works for us, works for us!" He said, giving Enjolras' cheek a quick kiss. "Goodnight, my friend, my pal, my buddy, mon am-"
"You can stop now." Enjolras said pointedly. Courfeyrac rolled his eyes,
"Spoilsport," He accused, before kissing Enjolras' cheek again, and walking out as Combeferre had done. Though his walk had more bounce than Combeferre's calm gait.
Enjolras rolled over in bed, his red blanket tucked securely around him, and he glanced at his wall, which was dark, due to the night sky, and the fact that Courfeyrac had turned the light off when he left. It was comforting, to be in the darkness, to him. The one time he didn't have to face life's problems was when he slept. And maybe if he slept, the weird aching would stop. And so, he closed his eyes.
Hi, so this is my first time writing for this fandom. Les Mis doesn't seem to be very active here, but oh well! I could barely find any de-aged fics, so I decided to write one myself. Things will really get into swing in the next chapter. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the first chapter and please review.