I know, I know this is a modern AU and that it is horrible and ridiculous and Hugo wants to die AGAIN right now and I don't it has all the dreaded fandom pairings such as Jehan/Courfeyrac and Combeferre/Éponine and terrible OOCness but believe me when I say that I felt so random and I simply couldn't resist!
Also there is some swearing. I read in the terms that it is allowed, at some point, but if you find this offensive in any way, please tell me.
God I'm sorry for everything.
Forgive me, Abaisse.
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1. Be innovative
“Remember that time when Jehan was depressed because the third newspaper he had sent his poems to, denied publishing them? And you know how seeing Jehan depressed is more heart breaking than watching the Starks die and then watching wounded baby pandas on Youtube while listening to the Rains of Castamere. I guess you get the point…”
“Yes, go on.”
“So I decided to surprise him. I blindfolded him…”
“Woah! Way too much information!”
“No, don’t worry! The worse thing that might or might not have happened was me taking advantage of him and checking his glorious floral butt out. But the thing is that I put him in the car and drove somewhere and when he opened his eyes we were in the country with flowers blooming and birds singing and mating and all that shit, and I had prepared a picnic! I had brought a lace parasol and pickup-shaped speakers for my iPod that played Edith Piaf…”
“I shudder at the idea, and I know the answer already, but did he like it?”
“Almost peed on himself.”
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Grantaire knows how to be innovative. He’s a fuckin’ artist, after all. When he’s sober enough to be able to draw anything more than penises on pamphlets, at least. Enjolras might hate him to his guts for being a drunken cynic half –three quarters- of the time, but the revolutionary leader is up for a surprise.
Bahorel and Éponine help him, and after hours of sweat, dust, aching muscles and rugged breathing, they can stand in Enjolras’ living room to admire their masterpiece.
Needless to say, Bahorel and Éponine are betting. Bahorel is a hundred percent positive that the plan is doomed to fail, whereas Éponine has a small hope… Fuck it, Éponine has small silly hopes for everything. Even for her and Pontmercy, when he’s already dating her best friend.
The house is empty and only Grantaire can be seen in the living room, cross legged in front of their accomplishment, a bottle of beer in his hand and a small sarcastic smile on his face.
Enjolras’ reaction… well, let’s say that Grantaire hasn’t seen him like that since the day that Jehovah’s witnesses meddled into the sexual equality march. But that’s a completely different story…
His face is slowly and steadily going red, quickly coming to resemble his t-shirt, that t-shirt which falls on aaaall the right places. “Grantaire,” his voice is dangerously calm, “care to explain what the hell happened in my living room?”
Grantaire raises an eyebrow. “It’s a barricade, Apollo. Like those in the June Rebellion that you study. A thank you would be nice!”
Enjolras follows the ritual of getting pissed off with step two: clenching a fist and starting picking his lips with his other hand. “With the washing machine? And the pillows from my great-grandmother’s sofa?”
“That sofa is hideous. You know that. Besides, it’s for science. Or… revolution.”
“With my bloody printer?”
“We needed a representative of modern technology in our revolution.”
“Wait a minute… what the hell serves the purpose of a red flag on top?”
“It might or might not be your red boxers.”
It’s just then that the barricade starts shaking dangerously from its base.
Bahorel gets free drinks that night.
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2. Speak foreign languages. Esta muy caliente!
“Everybody loves something foreign to spice up the atmosphere every now and then!”
“Courfeyrac, you don’t even know a language apart from English and French!”
“Come on, memorizing a phrase or two is easier than finishing a Barbie video game!”
“I have never played a Barbie video game.”
“Neither have I. But it must be ridiculously easy! You know how Jehan loves Aeschylus and the other Ancient Greeks. After reading one of his poems, I needed to congratulate him in a way, and show him how well written it was.”
“So what did you say?”
“Απλά γαρ έστι της αληθείας επη.”
“…Right. Ditto. Whatever that means.”
“It’s painfully sexy. Don’t look it up. But he said that nobody had ever paid him such a compliment before.”
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Marius knows five different foreign languages. In all honest, studying a new language might be the only thing which doesn’t make him blush so much that his freckles disappear, ramble and play with the front pocket of his shirt. He is surprisingly good at them, so much that he forgets what in which he had started speaking in, and mixes three different languages together as if they are cocktails.
When Éponine wears some lipstick which she’s sure it makes her look like she’s smeared ketchup all over her face, even though Grantaire tells her she looks smashing, and gets her seductive face on, she starts feeling quite confident.
Marius smiles awkwardly when she enters the room, takes a seat, and crosses her legs seductively.
Everything is fine, until she says, in a deep, throaty voice: “Podoba mi sie Twój piegi.”
Marius raises an eyebrow, looking quite confused. “Thank you, Éponine. I’m flattered that you like my freckles.” And then he slowly stands up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I forgot to feed my hamster.”
Éponine wishes Feuilly a slow, painful death.
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3. Use pickup lines. No one can survive without them.
“I once asked a girl: Apart from being sexy, what else do you do for a living?”
“Excuse me as I go and vomit.”
“You can vomit as much as you want, but it turns out that she was a teacher, with a teacher-student fetish. Deserved a golden sex prize.”
“I don’t feel very well…”
“And there was that other time when I said: Can I have directions? And that chick asked: To where? And I said: to your heart.”
“And what did she do?”
“She put my hand on her boob. To feel her heart, you know!”
“I’ll never be the same person again.”
“Sure, because the last time you touched boobs, the Spice Girls were still a band. Never mind, you need to use a pickup line… Apart from I’ve come to sleep with you. This might not have the expected result.”
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Marius Pontmercy’s hands are shaking. Pickup lines. Come on, they can’t be any difficult. Courfeyrac uses them all the time, and look at his success with girls, boys, or anything with a pulse, for that matter.
Right, pickup lines. He can do that. Cosette is looking adorable and she smells of vanilla ice cream and she looks so innocent… But Courfeyrac said it would work. Courfeyrac always is right. Apart from that time with the shaving razor and the carrots… but that probably was an accident.
So Marius knows what to do, he can do it, he is a grown man and…
“I may not be Fred Astaire, but I bet I can make your bed Jazz.”
“Um… Marius honey, do you, by any chance mean, make my bed Rock?”
“Uh… sure. Sure, that one.”
“So that would be Fred Flinstone…”
“My grandfather didn’t let me watch all the cartoons, okay?”
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It definitely is a bad idea to use pickup lines when your name is Laigle. A very, very bad idea indeed. Even when you have finally managed to match your clothes and when Musichetta has patched that hole on your jeans.
“Do you have a band-aid? Because I think I scrapped my knee falling for you.”
“Well done! Perfect! And you tell me now! And what if you get infected? What… oh, Jesus Christ, what if you get tetanus? What id you die, Bossuet, what am I going to do without you? Didn’t you consider poor Musichetta? I know that her cooking isn’t superb but she cares for you, you know!”
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“Do you have a quarter? My mother told me to call home when I met the girl of my dreams.”
"You don’t have a mother, Feuilly.”
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4. Ask them to take care of you when you are sick and vulnerable
“He immediately rushed to my place, like a precious angelic nurse in his huge white sweater, a gentle smile on his face that soothed all of my sufferings away…”
“You had a cold, Courfeyrac.”
“A very severe one. And you are jealous that you have no one to bring you soup and softly press his palm against your forehead to flinch back at the warmth of your burning skin, and bring you wet towels…”
“Combeferre is my roommate.”
“Yes, but Combeferre doesn’t do cuddles!”
“Occasionally…”
“…”
“…”
“Combeferre never cuddles with ME! I feel betrayed!”
“That’s because you’re always snotty and disgusting.”
“NO, I’m hot and fabulous!”
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“Joly, Chetta, can I have a hug?”
“Sure darling, but why?” they both look up from their books at Bossuet.
“I just threw up.”
Musichetta gets up and walks to him placing a kiss on his bald head. “Oh, sweetie, that’s ok…”
But Joly is already in hysterics, his hands moving around spasmodically. “Oh great, you got yourself that nasty gastroenteritis. You must go to the hospital! Tell me, any other symptoms? What color was your vomit?”
“Joly…”
“Oh God there was blood in your vomit, wasn’t there?”
“Joly…”
“Great! Fine! Go and die! Leave us alone!”
“Joly, it’s probably something I ate.”
Musichetta pulls him back, her face turning into a pale, cold mask of anger. Bossuet instinctively steps away, looking ready to get sick again.
“What do you mean something you ate, sweetheart?” she almost spits poisonously. “Is that directed to my culinary skills? Are you implying that I want to kill you? I’ve had enough of you two! You shall feel my wrath! Tonight… tonight you’re both eating takeaway!” she says triumphantly.
They both sigh in relief.
“DON’T THINK I DIDN’T HEAR THAT!”
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There is more. Much more. Tell me if I should continue or go throw myself off a cliff.