A/N- This fic is basically a drawn out corny joke that popped up in my head during math class. I dunno. I'm just random, I s'pose... Les Amis, by the way, are meant to be teasing Enjolras in the first bit. I promise they aren'tas crazy as they sound.

Pas de Blague

Enjolras frowned at Courfeyrac as he burst into the café, bringing with him a gust of wind that sent his papers fluttering around the room. The others looked up at the latecomer, and were surprised to see that the wind wasn't all that had followed him in.

"Get that thing out of here," Enjolras said stiffly.

Joly leapt to his feet and dashed to the other side of the room, shouting something about his "allerdgies."

Courfeyrac grinned at them. "Isn't he cute? He just started following me near the markets, and I figured I'd let him come along."

The scruffy brown dog trotted over to Enjolras and planted a heavy paw in the leader's lap. Enjolras frowned at the sad brown eyes and matted fur. "Get it out."

"Oh, have a heart," Courfeyrac insisted.

Jean Prouvaire was studying the animal. "He's alone, Enjolras – an orphan with no family. You believe in equality, don't you? This is just another of the poor whom you wish to liberate."

"I'd agree with you, Prouvaire," Enjolras hissed, "but the difference between the thing on my lap and the people for whom I wish to fight is that the poor… are people."

"That's discrimination!" Courfeyrac declared indignantly.

The dog, meanwhile, lost interest in Enjolras and began inspecting the others in the room. It was difficult to ignore Joly's cries of "Ged away! Go od! Do, dod't put your dose there! AUGH!"

Feuilly whistled, and the animal abandoned Joly and crossed to the fan-maker. "You're right, Courfeyrac," he said softly. "This fellow is an orphan."

"Oh, stop it!" Enjolras cried. "It's just an animal!"

"And I suppose we're just students," said Courfeyrac.

Exasperated, Enjolras buried his face in his hands.

"C'mere, boy." The dog returned to Courfeyrac. "I'd keep him, but I don't think dogs are allowed in my building. Does anyone want this dog? … Joly?"

"Dadt's dot fuddy, Courfeyrag. By dose ruds whed I'b dear adibals."

"Feuilly? … Jehan? … Combeferre? … Bahorel?" The men all shook their heads. "Enjolras?" The glare he received was a bit frightening. "Well, I can't just put the poor fellow back out in the streets…"

"And why not?"

"Because, dear Enjolras, I've grown attached to the little guy."

Another gust of wind upset Enjolras's papers and Laigle de Meux came rushing in. "Sorry I'm late!" he called. "Blondeau was squawking at me over some paper I have due tomorrow that he doesn't expect me to turn in. What he doesn't know is that I've already finished several pa- What is that?"

The dog had gone over to the newcomer and started sniffing him.

"Why, look at that little mutt! Who does he belong to?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "No one."

"He's a stray? That's terrible! He's so friendly," Laigle said, scratching the animal behind the ears.

"Congratulations, Bossuet!" Courfeyrac suddenly exclaimed, "you've got a new dog!"

"Really? You don't want him?"

"I want him, I just can't keep him. And I don't think Enjolras is very pleased with his presence…"

"I see that," Laigle laughed.

Laigle stacked the papers again and counted them. All seven pages were still there. He smiled, imagining the surprise on Blondeau's face when he handed in a finished report on the day it was due. He counted the pages. Seven. The fruit of a week's labor was here in his hand.

This delightful reverie was interrupted by a little whine. He looked over at the dog, which was curled up on his bed and staring at him with those sad brown eyes.

"What's wrong, little Joly?" he asked aloud. The animal got to its feet and hopped down from the bed, laying his head on Laigle's knee. He laughed. "Are you hungry?"

Laigle crossed the room and pulled open the cupboard. He tossed the dog a scrap of bread, which was quickly eaten. Those pleading eyes begged him for another crust. "Well, I don't have any more," Laigle sighed.

He found a few francs in his pocket and put on his hat. "I'm going to the baker's. Do you want to come?"

The dog looked at him, then returned to his bed and curled up in a tight ball.

"Well, I'll be back in a few moments."

And he went out.

Laigle returned about a half an hour later, a baguette under his arm. The door to his room was standing open. Worried, he dashed inside and found the room empty. Shreds of wet paper decorated the floor, and Laigle recognized the remains of his seven-page report.
"Everyone, bring me your essays," Blondeau demanded. All of the young men went up to the professor with papers in their hands. Laigle noted that none were as long as his had been.

"Lesgle!" the spiteful little man said loudly. "Where is the splendid report you promised me?"

The young man got slowly to his feet and went to the front of the room. Removing his purse from his pocket, he emptied the bits of paper that were all that was left of his essay into Blondeau's outstretched hands.

Caught off guard, the professor looked at the shreds in his hands and said, "What is this, Lesgle? Where is your paper?"

"That is my paper," Laigle said forlornly.

"What on earth happened to it?"

Laigle winced. "My dog ate it."