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.
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.”

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.

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.”

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.

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.”

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?”

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!”

“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.”

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!”

“Combeferre never cuddles with ME! I feel betrayed!”

“That’s because you’re always snotty and disgusting.”

“NO, I’m hot and fabulous!”

“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?”

“Oh God there was blood in your vomit, wasn’t there?”

“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.

There is more. Much more. Tell me if I should continue or go throw myself off a cliff.
Last edited by IBelieveInYou on Wed Jun 26, 2013 5:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Then I saw their trembling features warp and, gradually,
Their foreheads turn pale and dissolve in front of me,
And everyone, like a stream that flows into a sea,
Became completely lost in a dark immensity.

Victor Hugo, The Slope of Reverie Re: Courfeyrac's guide to successful dating

Postby LauraLeZunzu » Wed Jun 26, 2013 5:00 pm

Hahahaha I laughed a lot!! You should sure continue PD: It kinda reminds me the Playbook of Barney (HIMYM) hahaha now that I think about it, Barney's and Courfeyrac's personalities could be similar... Postby IBelieveInYou » Wed Jun 26, 2013 5:01 pm

Oh God thank you so much zunzu! I'm extremely ashamed about this but it was spontaneous and I have written more and I might post it when I get back home. Postby Gervais » Wed Jun 26, 2013 10:25 pm

Oh my gosh, Liv. Poor, poor little Marius and Bossuet. Please continue this when you have more. "The peas, Woyzeck. The PEAS." Postby WhoIam » Wed Jun 26, 2013 10:46 pm

*is disappointed you didn't post all of it*
Where's the rest? Postby IBelieveInYou » Thu Jun 27, 2013 11:36 am

Oh thank you so much! It means so much that you don't want to shoot me!
5. Write them poems
Roses are red, violets are blue, my poems don't rhyme but I think of you all the time-Courfeyrac
It rhymed-Jehan
And you're making progress:) -J
Roses are red, violets are blue, I like your butt... -C
More than macademia nut In the deepest abyss of thine eyes I dare swim until the suffocating darkness encloses me into its wall of deepest shame for the very heart that warms my Polish winters, is the chosen one that touches the limit of the natural enforcement upon the invaded castles of my sorrows. -Feuilly
Feuilly, are you drunk?- Marie Suzette.
Or was that a Harry Potter reference? -M.S.
6. Cook for them
“Oh, girls and boys adore my cooking. You should definitely try that. It makes them feel so loved and wanted!”

“What do you even cook, Courfeyrac?”

“I don’t need to actually cook, you know. Wearing the You Can Kiss the Cook apron and getting covered in flour and chocolate and shit is always more than enough to do the work!”

Bossuet tries to cook. Pasta.

His ear might never be the same after the sauce burn.

Joly might or might not have to be transmitted to the hospital, psychologically traumatized for life.

The fire department might come to aid as well. And the police.

Revolutionary blood, or tomato, might or might not eternally stain Musichetta’s curtain.

And the cat might be in need of therapy sessions every other week.
7. Drink a little to relax and feel at ease

“It’s been statistically proven that drinking a glass or two to break the tension makes me even more insufferably adorable than I already am, and attracts literally everyone in the bar to my general direction.”
OMG Corsette you were just like ghosst to mew! -Marius
You weere my Nearly Heasless Nic! -M
Um... thank you? -Cosette
Your hair is beeyoutiful you csn be my Rapynzel and I can be your frog pricne! -M
I'm a fog, kiss me, Closette! -M
Courgette I feel so lonrly, I need to smell your shampoo and an oreo muffin and a huuug -M
I neesd a tissue because the world is such a cruel place foor Dumbo's mum and I can semll your soul in your handjerchief whihch means I CAN'T USE IIIIT -M
There, there -C
Epmty chairs at epmty tables, my Colette is at her home -M

8. Study and show how educated you are

“There was that time when I studied poetry for a whole night and kept on talking for Iambic pentameters and hendecasyllables for three and a half hours.”

“I think I’m ecstatic now that you told me.”

“I don’t know about you, but Jehan was. He recited Keats to me after that. And with my little and humble knowledge, let me tell you that Keats isn’t for friends.”

Éponine rolls her eyes, looking offended. “Of course I am interested in opera! How can you even look surprised?”

“Oh that’s fascinating,” Combeferre leans forward on his chair, pushing his spectacles back on his nose, as an interested smile lights his face. “Which one is your favorite?”

Éponine shrugs her shoulders. “The flying Dutchman would be fine, -I mean, I liked the ramifications of alarming complexity with which the curse was invested-, if the symbolic significance wasn’t so elitistic for the masses to understand, and if I hadn’t grown sick of the outward trappings of the Gothic towards a depiction of its metaphysics being used as a metaphor for the inner lives of its protagonists. Besides, Wagner was nazi.”

Combeferre nods, looking startled and a little puzzled, “fair enough.”

“But my favorite one would be Carmen.”

“Oh, I am very fond of Carmen!” Combeferre grins enthusiastically.

“Me too, and that’s mostly because the departure from tonality in favor of a chromatic melody line, in Act 1, Scene 2, is the most prominent evidence of an exotic aspect in this piece, which represents the composer’s first venture into the alien and the foreign in this opera. That’s so fuckin’ interesting! Plus did you know that Bizet died in 37 from a heart attack because nobody liked his work? Poor man deserves some love!”

Combeferre nods slowly. “I see. I didn’t know that. And what is your favorite part in Carmen?”

He can notice something going wrong with Éponine, he can notice her biting her lower lip and then her nails, and chewing on her hair. “Uh, the part where everyone dies!”

“Wait, everyone always dies in the opera, right?”

9. Sing to them. Ladies love singing. And gentlemen, for that matter.

“I always sing the first lyric of Bohemian Rhapsody. If the object of my affection catches up and continues, then he or she is worthy.”

“And do they? Catch up, I mean.”

“Always. I’m irresistible.”

“Mamaaaaa, I just killed a maaan!”

Enjolras freezes at his place. “What? What did you do, ruthless cynic?”

“Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s deaaaad!”

Enjolras drops his pamphlets and turns to face Grantaire, rather shocked. “Do you even own a gun? What… what did you do? Murderer!”

“Mamaaaaa, life had just beguuun!”

“Was it for the sake of equality, at least? Was your purpose to defend the poor and the tormented?”

The other night, they drag Enjolras to a karaoke bar.
Grantaire drinks. More than should be allowed. He drinks the whole Seine, or something.

He sings Eros and Apollo to Enjolras.

When he wakes up with a horrible hangover the next morning, he seriously considers suicide.

That, until he learns that his friends also let him sing to the blond man I wanna have your babies.

It is then, that he starts considering mass murder.

10. Pay them unique compliments

“You know, original compliments. On the little things. I know that girls love hearing how awesome it is when they have matched their nail polish with the strap of their sandals, or when you compliment their voice, and all the everyday accomplishments, like their cooking, or their dancing at a club, or the shape of their hands. I know that Jehan loves it when they compliment him on a rhyme, because he does rhymes so rarely, or on how much his flower in the pot on his desk has grown, or even on tidying his room, which believe me, is a rare occurrence.”

Unique. The compliments must be unique. And original. For something small. Oh, and subtle.

But what can Enjolras compliment Grantaire on? He used to despise the man until… until he realized that his palms went clammy around him and that he licked his lips after every argument and that his heart…

Oh sod it. Enjolras hates what is happening to him. He hates the distraction, he hates the confusion, he hates everything Grantaire does and he hates the way he makes him feel…

What to compliment him on? On his lack of belief? On his glorious bum? That certainly is out of the question for a mature man such as Enjolras who most definitely does not check the drunkard’s bottom out. On his knowledge on classics? So what? Enjolras was always good with mythology and Ancient Greek but no one told him well done! On his artistic skills? Then he’d have to confess for breaking into his apartment, in a rather stalkerish manner he deeply regrets, and peeked into his notebooks full of his own face, in chalk, in oil brushes, in every fuckin’ thing!

Oh shit. Here he comes. Shit, shit!

Remember. Unique. Different.

“Hey, Apollo!”

Original. Subtle.

“I… I like your eyebrows!”
11. Dress for them
“Sometimes when Jehan is sad, and you know that when Jehan is sad is even more heart wretching than lost Doree having amnesia and The Prince’s Tale in the Deathly Hallows…”
“Yes, we get it, seeing Jehan sad is sad!”

“Right. At those times, I wear flowers. Like, many flowers! And a floral bowtie. And my daisy shaped sunglasses.”

“Courf, your fashion sense had always been questionable. And Jehan has more things in his mind other than flowers.”

“For your information, it makes Jehan smile.”

“Jehan always smiles when you’re around, Courf.”

“Oh yes, you’re right, I had forgotten that part!”

“Because he’s polite!”

Combeferre knows that he’s acting like a teenage boy instead of a mature medical student, but there are flowers in his stomach, and he is sure that his pulse is rather increased, but he can do nothing about it, he has waited for so long for that, for Éponine to get over Marius and to show feelings towards him and he likes her, oh sod it, he loves her so much, because she’s always herself and she swears and she wears those huge sweaters and her wrists might be bony and her hair tangled and there might be dark circles under her eyes, but it’s because she’s strong and brave and she manages it all on her own, raising her brother and keeping a job and studying at night, and he would change nothing about her.

At first he doesn’t recognize her when she enters the restaurant. But when he sees her making her way to the table, and hears her swear as she missteps on her heels, there is no doubt that it’s her.

She’s into a pencil skirt which admittedly does wonders to her legs, always hidden in baggy jeans, and a tight blazer, and a silk blouse, her makeup is flawless instead of non-existent, and her hair pulled on a chic chignon.

“You look beautiful,” he breathes.

“I look like a fuckin’ school headmistress,” she growls, and a few customers from the nearby tables turn to look at them.

Combeferre must admit that she has a point…

“R, I understand that your father had been an ass during your childhood, and that you are drunk, and that life is hard, and that the world is a cruel place, also I understand that your body might be slightly decent, but on no account is it acceptable to show up in the Musain in nothing but a tricolor flag.”

“It’s or…iganility, man! I dress as I fuckin’ please! It’s equolity! Fashion relovution! TO THE BARRICAKES!”

12. Make them jealous

“Making someone jealous is a gift. I can simply arrange a date over the phone when Jehan is present, and he immediately gets jealous!”

“Courfeyrac, Jehan doesn’t get jealous.”

“He writes poems about storms and dark oceans and 19th century chicks who spit blood in a handkerchief after that. Make your own conclusions.”

Enjolras is ready to start his speech, when he realizes that someone’s missing. He looks around the room suspiciously. Bahorel is here, Pontmercy is here, biting his nails, even Musichetta is here. His heart skips a beat. “Grantaire isn’t here.”

Éponine is examining the shape of her nails thoroughly. “Good observation. You get a balloon.”

“Where is he? Pissed drunk on some pavement again?”

Éponine doesn’t raise her eyes from her nails. “Actually, he’s on a date.”

Enjolras chuckles half heartedly, he surely has misheard. “A what?”

Bahorel looks more than willing to reply. “A date, man. It’s when two people do horrible pretentious shit like eating in the candlelight and staring into each other’s souls and stuff, until they end up shagging’ each other’s brains out in an uncomfortable car.”

Each other’s… brains out… “A date with whom?” his voice comes out like a croak.

Éponine finally stops looking at her fingernails and lazily raises her head, her expression rather sarcastic. “Some guy. Sorry, I didn’t get his ID number.”

The rest of the meeting goes well.

No really, it goes well.

Apart from the moment when he refers to the June Rebellion as the Curl Rebellion.

Or that moment when he refers to them as les Amis de l’A.B.R.

Because the moment when he refers to May ’68 as the Date ’68 totally doesn’t count. May is a Date, isn’t it?

No, it’s a month.

Doesn’t matter, still doesn’t count!

It isn’t easy to not be pissed off when you learn that such loyal and important members of your activist organization prefer wooing tattooed buffs instead of being dedicated to your cause, okay?

13. Text them goodnight

Hey, are you asleep? -Courfeyrac
Not anymore. Did something happen?- Jehan
Yes. I was struck with insufferable guilt when I realized I didn't say goodnight to you after the meeting. -C
Do you text Goodnight to all of your friends when you forget to tell them in person? -J
All the impoant ones. -C
I mean, all my friends are important. -C
Just some of them are super important. -C I forgot to tell your Goodnight. And thank you for your company. I treasure the moments when we study together, and you seem so interested in moths and Russian literature... You looked very nice today by the way, the color of that Star Wars t-shirt complimented your eyes rather well, I daresay. So goodnight, I hope you'll sleep well. -Combeferre
I did until now. Dude, I like you too, but if you ever text me again at 3AM on a working night, then I swear that I'LL MURDER EVERYTHING YOU LOVE! -Eponine

There is still more. But I promise I'll stop if you tell me to. Postby Aurelia Combeferre » Thu Jun 27, 2013 1:18 pm

This is just what I needed after a horrible 2 days at school. Thanks Liv! Write more of this; the tips had me snickering in a good way.
"...all aptitudes having equal opportunity; politically, all votes having equal weight; religiously, all consciences having equal rights." Postby IBelieveInYou » Thu Jun 27, 2013 1:22 pm

Oh thank you so much Relly Glad it made you laugh and sorry these days have been tough for you Postby MamzelleCombeferre » Thu Jun 27, 2013 10:03 pm

Liv, these are awesome! Thank you for sharing, and for writing even more.
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