A/N: You don't know how hard it is to write Enjolras's speech. Really. I got stuck on that for quite a few days. Sorry about the Shakespeare! It sounds corny, but it grew on me. Julius Caesar is so amazing! And yes, I think I did venture a bit too much to the musical.
PLEASE review. I see other peoples stories and they get like, 20 reviews, and I have like, 2. I don't care if its all negative. Or all gushy. Or whatever. You can even leave it anonymously! Thats how much I want to hear them!
"Will you be alright here, Gavroche?" asked Enjolras. It was the next night, and Enjolras had his meeting and dinner with Angelique afterward. He put on some freshly washed attire, so he looked quite handsome. He put on a coat to cover his shirt, and didn't bother to do anything with his trousers. The Amis knew he liked to be clean when he could.
"Yes, I'll be fine!" said Gavroche, grinning at watching Enjolras fuss over himself. "You just go have a lovely dinner."
"Alright. I'll be back no later than 10. If you need anything...don't come out, okay? When Joly dropped by again earlier he told you not to do any long walking for a few days, remember?" Gavroche nodded. "However, you can walk around the house if you need. Bread is in the cupboard, and there should be some other stuff too, eat what you like." Enjolras opened the door and hesitated, wondering if it was a good decision to leave Gavroche in his flat alone. He then nodded and closed the door behind him, walking to the cafe.
Enjolras walked up to the cafe door, where Feuilly and Courfeyrac were talking, Feuilly spewing out facts about Poland, and Courfeyrac...well...Courfeyrac was standing there, appearing to be listening, but Enjolras knew in his head he didn't understand a word Feuilly was saying. Courfeyrac turned and smiled at Enjolras as he came, obviously happy to get away from the current conversation he was having.
"Enjolras! Mon ami! Come, lets go inside!" said Courfeyrac quickly, putting his arm around Enjolras and pulling him inside the Musain. "Come on Feuilly, inside!" added Courfeyrac, for Feuilly was standing bewildered in the door frame at how fast his conversation had fallen apart.
Something necessary to point out was that Courfeyrac wasn't mean. He was always happy, with a grin on his face, and he enjoyed talking to people. That is, he liked talking to people when the conversation pertained to what he enjoyed talking about. Women, females, girls, whatever you'd like to call them. He had a reputation for that, and most other things bored him. (Except the revolution, which he'd gladly call off a few nights of romances for.)
Courfeyrac dragged Enjolras through the cafe. There weren't that many people there, surprisingly. Enjolras nodded to Nichol, who smiled at him. She winked. Enjolras would probably never understand women.
They walked into the back room, with Feuilly in close pursuit. Joly, Combeferre, and Bahorel were inside. They stood up, happy to see their friends and their fearless leader. Combeferre especially, he pulled Enjolras to the side and the two of them exchanged glances that showed what they were thinking perfectly.
"Tonight?" Combeferre's look said.
Enjolras nodded. "After the meeting," his eyes seemed to say. Combeferre grinned, and the pair went back to join their friends in conversation, which was now about how much brandy a person could possibly drink.
"Oh, I could trump all of you in a drinking contest!" bragged Courfeyrac.
"Well, if you want to stay on the same side, you should limit yourself to 2 bottles. If you have any more, you're at risk of damaging your brain cells!" piped up Joly. He was ignored by all except Enjolras and Combeferre.
"Ha, Courfeyrac, perhaps all of us here right now. But could you beat Grantaire?" challenged Joly.
Courfeyrac, who had his back to the door, said, "Grantaire, hmm? I suppose I would beat him, for he would fall asleep before he could finish!"
"I'm not so sure about that!" called out a different voice. It was deeper than the rest, and harmed by too much alcohol. Courfeyrac spun around and saw Grantaire entering late as usual, pulled by Lesgles and Jehan. Enjolras took a role count while Grantaire and Courfeyrac started arguing. He, Combeferre, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly, Feuilly, Jehan, Lesgles, Bahorel...who was missing.
Enjolras groaned. "Where is Marius? Dreaming, no doubt." Combeferre, who was sympathetic towards the boy, shot Enjolras a look.
"He's seeking his lady, which is what you'll be doing in a few hours. Cut him some slack!"
Enjolras nodded and consented to Combeferre's look. He sat down in his chair at the head of the table, hoping that it might encourage some others to follow. But not even Combeferre followed him, because his attention was focused on Grantaire and Courfeyrac, who were both being held back by the others!
"You take that back!" shouted Courfeyrac, obviously hurt by something Grantaire said.
Grantaire smirked, "I'm not taking it back because I meant it!" Courfeyrac's expression changed from hurt to anger. He lunged at Grantaire, causing Joly, Feuilly, and Bahorel, who were holding him, to fall forward and nearly lose their grip.
"STOP IT!" shouted Enjolras, who had stood up, wedged himself in between Courfeyrac and Grantaire and was separating them by both of their shirts. They immediately stopped, knowing in this position, Enjolras could not be moved easily and they would not be able to reach each other. Courfeyrac scowled and went to his regular seat, which, fortunately, was far from Grantaire. Everyone else went quietly to their seats, watching Enjolras, who was still standing where the fight just was. They prepared for one of his speeches.
"Friends, Parisans, students, lend me your ears! I have come to lead this revolution, not solve problems amongst ourselves! The enemy will prey on our weak point and cause us to fall to our knees! We should not be fighting in here, but out there, out on the barricade we are planning to build!" Enjolras paused for a moment and walked back to his seat, receiving applause. Les Amis knew what a great speech maker he was.
"I'm not finished." The applause stopped immediately. "Now, about our barricade, it seems we need to separate some people. Why don't-" Enjolras was interrupted by the squeaking of a door.
"Marius, you're late." Enjolras said late terribly. It was cold, enunciated, and even received a disapproving glance from Combeferre.
Marius looked around. He was extremely pale.
"Are you alright?" asked Joly, who stood up to inspect Marius for symptoms. "You're so white, its as if you've seen a ghost! Have you had stomach cramps lately?"
"Oh, he doesn't need any of that!" said Grantaire, who appeared to have calmed down slightly. He stood up and walked over to Marius as well. "Here, have some wine!" Grantaire shoved his half empty bottle at Marius, who took it, looking disgusted. Grantaire pulled Marius's dreaming chair out from the corner, brought it to the table, and shoved Marius's shoulders so he had to sit down.