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If Courfeyrac were to get a service dog - which, he was not -, he would've joked it was just to fit in with the group.
No, really. He was almost sure half of Paris’s canine population was currently stuck in the Musain, laying under the chairs of the people at his table.
It was Friday, which meant it was meeting day. Except he couldn't quite focus on the meeting, because Serpent - who was currently off duty - had taken a liking for nibbing at his hand, and she was quite distracting, to say the least.
He absentmindedly pet her under the table, corresponding Combeferre's smile over it. When Ferre had first gotten a service dog, Courfeyrac had surfed the entire internet for information on them. He hadn't wanted to fuck it up and ruin his whole relationship with his best friend, which of course a mistake wouldn't ruin their relationship - their bond was far stronger than that -, but he still had been thinking of all the what-if’s.
All his anxieties had faded when he and Enjolras were received by Combeferre, not his mother, even though they had knocked on the door instead of texting him, and Courfeyrac saw the widest grin on his face. Behind him, a black labrador was wagging his tail, looking inches away from hopping with joy.
It got even better when, after they'd settled in his room, Combeferre put his pointers together then separated them outwardly (the sign for “free”, which they learnt he used as his dog's release command), and the dog was no longer working. He had automatically jumped on Courfeyrac and Enjolras’s laps, licking their faces and basically begging for cuddles. At that moment, Courfeyrac had both fallen in love with the dog, and relaxed fully - if this was Combeferre's service dog, he knew he'd be just fine.
After this labrador had retired, Combeferre had gotten a pomeranian instead, not needing a dog as huge for the tasks it would perform. She had been named Serpent by the service dog agency that'd trained her, and yet it had been a perfect name, with snakes being part of the symbol of medicine. “A match made in heaven”, they had joked.
Even though she was extremely professional while she was working, Serpent was actually a sweetheart. She'd taken a liking for Courfeyrac instantly, always demanding affection from him the moment she got off duty. Combeferre laughed, saying how his dog liked Courfeyrac far better than him.
Courfeyrac didn't really understand why Combeferre refused to use hearing aids unless it was extremely mandatory, even though he had explained it a few times. He felt as if being deaf was a key part of his identity, and having it taken away would feel like stripping him of what made him himself. And sure, Courfeyrac didn't get it - he wouldn't like to be left without hearing, no offense, even though he was already fluent in sign -, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He respected his friend's decision, and advocated for him when it was needed, his lack of ability to relate to the deaf experience did not change that.
It felt quite crazy, although in a good way, to think of how different his friends’ relations with their disabilities were. From Combeferre's pride to Enjolras’s hate, passing through Grantaire ignoring it out of sheer will and Joly's almost-shock every time he remembered that oh right, abled people exist.
And alright, Courfeyrac was, technically, disabled. He forgot about it often, though. Truly, he didn't really mind his ADHD - sure, he had to take meds, and he very often did not remember said meds, but honestly, that was whatever. He went through life without much of an issue, and he knew he was quite privileged for this, compared to his friends at least. So he didn't really count.
“All disabilities count except my own” Combeferre had teased Enjolras, back when he was still in denial about needing help. Courfeyrac swore his situation wasn't like that.
After all, Enjolras had spent more than a year during which he could barely get out of bed. During which going outside was an achievement - and a quite unobtainable one at that. During which he had meltdowns daily, some days more than once.
Combeferre and Courfeyrac had stayed by his side through this, obviously. But they couldn't help much besides that.
It wasn't until Enjolras’s parents had interrogated Combeferre about service dogs, and then convinced Enjolras to go ahead, see if it helps (although with the alternative being getting interned at the psych ward, did he really have a choice?), that he began healing in some way. Going outside was mandatory, because Patria needed to be walked. His meltdowns ended faster, because Patria would lay on his lap until he was calm. He no longer fainted as often, because Patria forced him to sit down whenever his heartbeat rose.
All in all, she had saved Enjolras, and Courfeyrac was incredibly grateful to her for this.
Even right now, Enjolras's speech was interrupted by a quiet bark, and Courfeyrac turned to where he'd been speaking to see Patria pushing him onto his seat. She was a leonberger, big and strong, so Enjolras didn't have much of a choice. After a couple deep breaths though - during which Les Amis remained silent -, he was back to speaking, even if from his seat from now on.
Les Amis knew better than to mention it. Enjolras didn't like it when people made a fuss over him needing help. Still, Joly - or had it been Bossuet? they were sitting side by side after all - threw him a pack of crackers, as the salt would help him get his sodium up some. Nodding towards them, Enjolras caught the snack, fidgeting with the wrapper before opening it.
Bahorel took Enjolras's silence (since he'd begun eating the crackers) as his cue to speak. They were talking about recruiting new members to the group, apparently - Courfeyrac had been a bit too distracted to realize before then - so obviously Bahorel was the man for this. They were planning on organizing a protest against the government's latest fuck-up, also known as cutting the funds of several environmental groups and attempting to mask it by organizing some music festival, and Les Amis weren't going to stand to the side. Still, they weren't enough people to carry such a big protest as the one they wanted to do, so the more new members they recruited the better.
Courfeyrac thought of his newest friend, Marius. They typically hung out at the library, a smaller one Courfeyrac had introduced to him after he'd been essentially kicked out of the first one he'd gone to - which was the biggest in the city - due to having a service dog. Courfeyrac knew what places didn't give any shit to service dog handlers, obviously, so he'd helped Marius out with that. Since that day, they'd taken to going to that library together, showing each other books and helping with their studies.
Marius wasn't one for conflict, as Courfeyrac had learnt. That was why he hadn't yet taken him to any meetings, but maybe he could ask him. He didn't know that much about Marius, but he knew he'd had a TBI and that was what he needed a service dog for. Ever since then, his social life had been harder, not to say next to non-existent, most of his previous so-called “friends” not wishing to acquaint themselves with a disabled person. A whole load of bullshit, yet something most people at this table had dealt with. It made Courfeyrac want to scream, people were such assholes.
If anything, being introduced to Les Amis would get Marius to have some friends - real friends. Maybe he'd even become a bit braver, more willing to advocate for himself.
Yeah, Courfeyrac decided. He'd talk to Marius about it when they next saw each other.
A tap on his shoulder made Courfeyrac almost jump in his seat, having gotten distracted in his own thoughts again. He turned towards Combeferre, who flashed him a half-regretful half-amused smile.
“The meeting's over, can I get Serpent back?” He signed, and Courfeyrac nodded quickly, ushering the dog off his lap. He found it quite funny how, to anyone who wasn't aware Serpent's sign name was, quite literally, the sign for “snake”, it'd seem like Combeferre was asking for a snake instead of a dog. Maybe that was why Ferre hadn't given her a more complex sign name.
“Did I miss anything important?” Courfeyrac asked when Serpent was commanded to task again, professionally sitting at Combeferre's heel.
“Nothing much. Éponine will bring her ex-sister, and Bahorel knows a guy or two he'd been meaning to ask to join us” He replied, signing ex-sister as the fingerspelling of “X” accompanied by the sign for “sister”, then offered his hand to help Courfeyrac stand by his side. Some people were standing up, too, while others stayed at their seats, talking or (like Enjolras) taking notes. “Drinks?”
“Sure” Courfeyrac signed back after he was on his feet, heading with Combeferre up the stairs that led to the bar. “I will ask M-A-R-I-U-S to come, too. I should tell Enjolras later”
Combeferre nodded, humming not quite on purpose.
“From the library?” He made sure, as if Courfeyrac had told him of any other guys named Marius. Courfeyrac only nodded in response, shifting his gaze towards his feet. He was making a point to step with enough strength for his light-up sneakers to remain turned on. In the dim lighting of the Musain, his shoes’ led lights shone brightly, and he loved looking at them. They scratched his brain just right.
They got to the bar, and as they waited, Courfeyrac asked Combeferre what he wanted to drink. Technically, Combeferre could order on his own, but he didn't really like talking out loud. He wasn't ashamed of his deaf accent, but it felt uncomfortable for him to use his voice, not hearing what he was saying. Meanwhile, Courfeyrac was naturally chatty, and he could speak enough for the both of them.
Next to them, Grantaire was ordering his third glass of wine of the night, except he was also unsuccessfully attempting to flirt with one of the baristas. Hermes was chilling on his lap, as he would do during any social interaction. Courfeyrac wasn't as close to Grantaire as he was to other members of their group, so he didn't know exactly what the papillon did that for. Whatever it was, as long as it helped, was none of his business.
“Rum and coke” Combeferre signed back, the same drink as he usually ordered. His choice never changed much, but Courfeyrac liked asking every time, just in case.
Soon enough, a barista was in front of them.
“I'd like a mojito and a cuba libre, please” Courfeyrac said, flashing her his brightest smile. He was a sucker for sweet drinks, sue him.
“Anything else?”
“No, that would be all”
When she left, Courfeyrac sat on the stool by Combeferre, placing his head on his shoulder yet making a point to do so in a way that he was able to see both his face and his hands, in case he signed something. He was feeling kinda strange, truth be told. His thoughts were running too fast, and he felt a bit restless. Had he taken his meds that morning? He didn't remember.
“Did you take your meds?” Combeferre asked just then, as if he had read his mind. Maybe he had, Courfeyrac wouldn't put it past him, really.
“Don't know” He shrugged, getting comfortable in the position they were in. In order to sign this, he had moved his hand from where it had been tapping at his thigh - he hadn't even noticed he was doing that.
“If you want to leave early” Combeferre began, but he stopped when Courfeyrac shook his head.
“I'm good, don't worry” He smiled, attempting to look reassuring. “I'll be better when I've drunk something”
Combeferre sighed, which he had no right to do. However, before Courfeyrac could retort, the drinks were in front of them, so they both had to bring out their wallets to pay, putting an end to their talk. They then headed back to the basement where their friends sat, most of them deep in conversation by now.
Enjolras was still writing in his notebook, completely focused on it. Bahorel and Feuilly were nowhere to be seen, so Courfeyrac assumed they had gone for a smoke. Grantaire had already returned, and he was talking animatedly with Bossuet and Éponine, each of them nursing a drink. Musichetta was also drinking while she spoke with Joly, and soon enough Combeferre was off with them, so the conversation would probably shift to medicine sooner than not.
After seeing his options, Courfeyrac sat by Enjolras’s side, leaning towards his friend yet without touching him. It took him a bit to notice Courfeyrac's presence, but when he did, he flashed him the Enjolras equivalent of a smile.
That was yet another thing. Enjolras, who had been quite expressive as a child, didn't make such obvious facial expressions anymore. “Skill regression”, he’d explained years before, shortly after Patria joined his life. Things such as showing his emotions came harder to him now, his friends having had to learn to read him once again through the subtlest clues. Enjolras had been quite angry about it - not only the facial expressions, but the entire skill regression thing -, having to relearn things he'd been able to do since childhood.
It had also stunted his ability to sign, as not having voice cues, sign language relied a lot on facial expressions to tell the tone of a sentence. Combeferre hadn't minded, already knowing Enjolras well enough to tell what he meant in most situations, but still it'd made it so Courfeyrac was the one of them fittest to interpret to LSF in most public events.
“So” Courfeyrac started, noticing the silence had gone for too long. “Good meeting?”
“You could say so” Enjolras shrugged, chewing the end of his pen absentmindedly. His lips were still rather grey-blue-ish, so Courfeyrac reckoned the dizzy spell Patria had alerted him of earlier had been quite worse than he'd thought. He choked down the urge to question his friend on his well-being, aware of his distaste towards that.
“I'm sorry I was kinda distracted today” He said instead. “Ferre thinks I forgot my meds. He's, uh, he's probably right”
“It’s fine” Enjolras brushed him off. “We didn't discuss anything too important, so you're good”
“I told Ferre already, but I'm probably gonna ask Marius - the guy from the library - if he wants to join us. Is that alright?” Courfeyrac made sure, just in case. Enjolras was quick to nod, his eyes brightening just a notch.
“Yes, that'd be great. Thanks”
“‘Nytime. Contact's good?” As soon as he nodded once more, Courfeyrac leaned on Enjolras's shoulder, taking a sip of his drink.
He looked at his friend's notes as he began writing again. Mostly, they were ideas for the protest they'd been planning, probably ones he'd bring up in the next meetings, when they (hopefully) had more people on their side.
Courfeyrac picked up one of the many pens on the table. He clicked it a few times, then spun it on his fingers - or attempted to do so, as it fell soon enough. Once again, he clicked it, then drew a smiley face on the corner of Enjolras's paper, who let out a good-natured huff. Enjolras had never liked people doodling on his notebooks, going to the point of hitting Grantaire when he had done so during an already bad day (which Enjolras had felt awful about as soon as it’d happened). Courfeyrac was the only exception to the rule, with his habit of drawing on every possible surface ever since he was a little child, which Enjolras had reluctantly become used to.
Still, his best friend didn't seem to be in the best mood, so Courfeyrac put the pen down, focusing on the movement of Enjolras's pen over the paper. His handwriting was really clear and cared for, unlike Courfeyrac's own, which had remained almost as messy as it'd been when he first learnt to write. It was extremely easy to read, too, one of the easiest Courfeyrac had seen. Watching him write, and reading the words that appeared on the paper, was so relaxing Courfeyrac almost forgot the drink he was holding.
“Courf! Dude, come over, we need input!” Bossuet drunkenly called, definitely not making Courfeyrac jump on his seat and spill part of his drink. Enjolras let out an Enjolras-laugh, and Courfeyrac stuck out his tongue at him before walking towards the others.
Grantaire and Éponine were still by Bossuet's side, Musichetta and Bahorel having also joined them by now. All five of them looked several levels of drunk, and if Courfeyrac was to bet, Grantaire was by his fourth or fifth glass by now.
Courfeyrac, only slightly tipsy (his alcohol tolerance sucked, but it didn't suck as much), was already excited to see what his very-not-sober friends needed his opinion for.
“So” Bossuet began as soon as Courfeyrac sat down with them. “What color is Grantaire?”
“Huh?”
Alright, sue him, but that wasn't what he'd been expecting.
“He's definitely pink” Éponine declared, smirking.
“I refuse” Groaned Grantaire in response, his head laying on the table.
“I say he's orange” And there, Courfeyrac just had to disagree with Musichetta.
“No, not at all, what the- he's definitely purple” At his words, Bossuet raised a hand for a high five.
“That's what I said!” While Courfeyrac high-fived Bossuet, the latter good-naturedly stuck out his tongue at Musichetta, who kissed him right after calling him an idiot. Blessing Courfeyrac with a distraction from the PDA - he didn't mind it, but they got too cheesy… or maybe Enjolras was rubbing off on him -, Bahorel spoke up.
“I've to agree with ‘Chetta, R is a warm color, not purple at all. Maybe yellow?”
“No dude, I'm yellow” Courfeyrac retorted, and everyone around the table nodded in agreement.
Early on in their friendship, Enjolras had assigned colors to both Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They didn't know what his thought process had been, or even if he'd made them the primary colors on purpose, but the thing is, those were their colors ever since. Courfeyrac himself had been incredibly indecisive on his favorite color, so being given yellow was like a blessing to him, and he kept it as his favorite ever since. Meanwhile, Combeferre hadn't been quite into the idea of having blue as his color… it grew in on him eventually, though. Enjolras, obviously, was red.
Speak of the devil…
“Grantaire is green” Enjolras declared from where he'd been sitting, his tone as official as it could get during meetings. Everyone who had been arguing on the topic made sounds of agreement, because who were they to contradict their leader?
Also, maybe Courfeyrac was biased, but green did fit Grantaire quite a lot. Even Grantaire seemed pleased with it.
The thing is, Enjolras didn't so often assign colors to people.
Besides for the three of them, Courfeyrac had never heard him speak of the color of anyone else. At all. So this was… not quite expected, truth be told.
He sent a look towards Combeferre, raising his eyebrows as if saying ‘have you seen this shit?’, but his best friend was so invested in his conversation with Joly he was oblivious to what went down around him. Which meant, for the rest of the night, Courfeyrac had to overthink this on his own.
(For the rest of the night being the following five minutes, because Bahorel began a bet on who could drink five shots of vodka faster, and like hell was Courfeyrac going to lose)
(Disappointingly to himself, Courfeyrac did lose)
(Surprisingly to nobody, and under her dog's judging glare, Éponine won with ease)
★
It was long after midnight, and they were finally heading back home.
As usual, Enjolras led the way towards their shared apartment. He had his headphones on, and Patria walked so close to his heel that, if Courfeyrac hadn't known better, he would've thought she was actively pushing him aside. Meanwhile, he and Combeferre walked a few feet behind, both of them feeling comfortably buzzed.
“You know Enjolras never gives people colors?” Courfeyrac started, his signing slightly clumsy from the alcohol yet hopefully still understandable. Combeferre looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if urging him to continue, so he did. “Grantaire is green”
“Grantaire” Combeferre repeated in confusion, and Courfeyrac nodded quickly. “Green”
Courfeyrac nodded again as the information dawned in on Combeferre. They both knew how rare it was that Enjolras did this, to the point he had gotten genuinely upset when other people had wanted him to assign them a color back when they were kids. This was nowhere near a normal occurrence, as mundane as it may seem to anybody outside their circle.
“Think Enjolras is in love?” Courfeyrac asked suddenly, practically shaking with excitement at the idea. Enjolras. With a crush. Neither he nor Combeferre had ever seen Enjolras fall in love with anybody, not even a dumb middle school crush, so this would be huge news if Courfeyrac was right.
“Maybe?” Signed Combeferre after thinking for a moment. “Grantaire and Enjolras argue often. He's probably in Enjolras’s mind a lot. It makes sense he has a color”
Courfeyrac hummed, trying not to scrunch up his nose at the idea of this occurrence having no meaning besides the obvious.
“Or” Combeferre continued after a pause, smirking and clearly trying not to laugh. “Enjolras is in love”
“Totally” Courfeyrac agreed, pleased once again, struggling to contain his giggles himself. “Enjolras is in love”
Just then, the two tipsy friends made eye contact, and that was the only thing they needed to dissolve into laughter. Courfeyrac was able to be quiet enough, but Combeferre's non-existent volume control got Enjolras to turn around in confusion.
“You good?” He signed, sobering them both up instantly. They nodded and made signs of affirmation, so Enjolras nodded back and continued walking, clueless on the reason for their good mood.
Once again, Combeferre and Courfeyrac shared a look. Their facades cracked simultaneously, starting to laugh once again at the same time.
Even after Enjolras turned around for the second time, they couldn't stop giggling all the rest of their way home.