Author's Note: I should add here that the basic premise of this fan-fic is based on a role-play that happened years ago in Le Café. Cranky Orka is my own creation however.
Enjolras wearily climbed the stairs to the backroom of the café Musain. It had been a particularly horrible day. He had failed his last examination by only one question. A gypsy lady had shouted something at him on his way over to the café, and he had stepped in a large pile of horse dung while crossing the street. He was in an altogether rather foul mood.
Opening the door, Enjolras froze. Sleeping very peacefully were five…boys. He rubbed his eyes and stared in open-mouthed awe.
Unaware they were being watched the five young boys' peaceful breathing filled the room. Enjolras noted that they looked like they had raided their older brother's wardrobes…their outfits were at least five sizes too large. He strode over to the one wearing glasses and gruffly shook the child's shoulder.
"Wake up." He ordered shortly.
The boy opened his eyes and looked up at Enjolras blearily. "Hullo, Enjolras." The boy mumbled in between two yawns. "Whatzthematter?" He added looking at the expression of growing fury on Enjolras' face.
"Gamin, take your friends and go play elsewhere. My friends and I have important business to attend to here." Enjolras managed to say evenly.
"Gamin?" The boy's face broke out into a grin. "What are you talk-" The boy suddenly caught a glimpse of his hands. He stared bewildered. Then his gaze shifted from his hands to his friends, who were starting to stir at the sound of Enjolras' voice.
"Who's in trouble this time?" A chubby cheeked boy asked yawning.
"Gamins—be gone!" Enjolras ordered pointing menacingly to the door.
A thin boy with enormous gray eyes looked hesitantly at the others. "Maybe…maybe we should go." He suggested timidly.
The first boy nodded jerkily at his friend. "I think so." He said in an uneven tone of voice. The other boys quickly got their feet looking sadly at Enjolras. They looked as if they wanted to say something, or maybe ask about something. He could tell that they were certainly bewildered about something.
Enjolras felt a momentary pang of guilt. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." He said in a more reasonable tone. Reaching into his coat he pulled out five francs. "Go buy yourselves something to eat." He said, handing it to the boy with chubby cheeks.
"Take your money and—" The boy began. However, the boy with glasses cut him short, clamping his hand over his mouth. The coin fell to the floor and rolled under one of the tables.
"Let us go." He pleaded, tugging the angry boy towards the door with one hand, and trying to keep his britches up with his other.
The boys hurried out of the café and into the street.
Enjolras shook his head. "Brats." He muttered as he took out his watch. A frown furrowed his brow. His friends should have been there by now.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"What did that—" Bahorel spat out a whole host of colorful adjectives, "gypsy woman give us?"
"Evidently something that…turned back the wheel of time, reversed the hourglass of age…" Prouvaire trailed off, self-consciously trying to pull his breeches up.
"What are we going to do tonight? There is no way the land lady is going to let us in looking like this!" Joly cried frantically, waving his arms about in an agitated fashion. The movement caused his too-large sleeves to flap in the breeze.
"You've been buying doeskin breeches instead of paying your rent." Combeferre pointed out. "Your land lady wasn't going to let you in regardless."
"Still…but think of the childhood diseases we are now susceptible to again! It was hard enough making it past ten the first time! What if we catch cholera? Or scarlet fever? What if we come down with smallpox? What if I—er—we catch diphtheria?"
"Sounds like you've already caught diarrhea of the mouth." Bahorel muttered.
Bossuet grinned as he caught site of himself in the window glass. "At least we're cute kids, eh?" He self-consciously ran a hand through his hair. "And I have hair again! Beautiful, wavy, tresses! Locks! Curls! Beautiful, lovely, shiny, hair! I--"
"This is all your fault!" Bahorel cried, shoving him against the wall. "Your bad luck has doomed us all!"
"Easy there, Bahorel. This isn't Bousset's fault." Combeferre said, separating the two. "There is a—OUCH!" A broom hit him squarely between the shoulders.
"Urchins!" The owner of the café Musain cried, hitting Bahorel with a broom. "You are scaring off my customers!" He delivered a whack to Joly, who yelped in pain. He then hit Bossuet with the broom across the legs, causing him to fall on the sidewalk. "Get away from my establishment!"
The man continued raining blows down upon them, until they finally managed to break away and run down the street as fast as their legs would carry them.
Panting the group huddled together in an alley. "Remind me to stiff him next time we eat there." Bahorel said clutching his side.
"We must, and I do mean, must, find some new clothing." Joly said. "I nearly tripped and fell to my death."
"What are we going to do, Combeferre?" Jehan asked leaning against the brickwork.
Combeferre cleared his throat and straitened his clothing as best as he could. "Quite simple. We must find this old woman again, and ask for the antidote."
"But we can't wander about Paris dressed like this!" Jehan pointed out with a little tug at his shirtfront.
"Your bad fashion didn't bother you before, Prouvaire, why the sudden change?" Bahorel asked.
"Oh, funny Bahorel. Real funny." Jehan remarked dryly. "At least no one's ever mistaken me for a lobster."
The group looked at him bewildered.
He shifted uneasily. "Well you know…him and his red waistcoats…lobsters….sea creatures…that turn red when you cook…them…oh forget it. I'm no good at insults." He stared at his feet dejectedly.
"Pinch, pinch" Bahorel grinned as he made "claws" with his hands. Joly and Bossuet doubled over with laughter.
Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Enough. Bahorel, leave Jehan alone. Remember, he's the one who translates your Latin for you. For all you know next time he could put things into the translations that will get you expelled, and even though your parents are fond of you, I'm fairly certain that they'd object to that."
Bahorel shut up.
Combeferre began pacing the alley. "What we need is a place to stay. We need someone who will believe us. Someone who will help us…someone female. Someone…" Combeferre grinned. "Someone like…"
More to come soon. A red waistcoat to anyone who guesses who the mysterious female is. LoL!