Author's Note: A while back, I was prompted by tumblr user percyyweasley for Joly and Bossuet's first meeting, so I drabbled it for her.
"I have met your new best friend," Courfeyrac says, dropping into Joly's lap.
Joly frowns and shoves him off. "I don't need a new best friend," he says. "I have plenty of friends."
"But you don't have a best friend, and you're about to." Courfeyrac grins as he leans back in his own chair.
Joly rolls his eyes. "Okay, who is it?"
Courfeyrac blinks. "What, no argument? No I'm studying the bones of the hand right now, leave me alone? No I am way too busy to even think about you? I feel cheated."
"I can tell you aren't going to give up until I let you tell me about this person."
Courfeyrac shrugs. "Very sensible, mon ami. His name is Lesgles, and he's in my LSAT study group."
"I hardly think our friend group needs more lawyers," Joly says loftily. "Between you, Enjolras, and Bahorel, Combeferre and I are already outnumbered."
"He's also the nicest guy— he gets to class first every time and still always ends up without a seat. There aren't enough chairs, and he's always giving his up for someone else." Courfeyrac smiles. "He's looking for a place to live right now, and I gave him your number."
Joly straightens. "You what?"
"Come on, now, you don't need all that room to yourself. It'll be good for you to have someone to talk to, anyway." Courfeyrac reaches over and musses Joly's hair. "You think too much when you're left alone."
"That's the sort of thing that only someone who doesn't think at all would say."
When Joly's phone rings a few days later, he's already forgotten the conversation.
"Hello?" He asks.
On the other end of the line, he can hear birds squawking and tires screeching. "Fuck— sorry—"
"Hello?" Joly tries again.
"No, no, I'm fine, it's the geese you've got to worry about," the voice on the other end of the line directs away from the phone. "Sorry," he says, less muffled now, "caught me at a bad moment."
"You called me," Joly says faintly. He wonders if this is the hallucination that will be the first noticeable sign that he is schizophrenic. He doesn't have a family history, but he's the right age.
"Right, of course. Hi! Uh, I hope it's okay, but Courfeyrac gave me your number. I'm calling about your spare room?"
Right. "Hey, listen, about the room—"
"Hold on a sec— yeah? No, I'm fine. I'm just on my way to the gas station I saw back here. My gas gauge is broken, apparently, and— yeah, no, you can keep going, it's a nice day. Thanks, though."
"Are you walking down the highway?" Joly asks, alarmed.
"Apparently they thought I was hitchhiking," Lesgles says.
"Couldn't you call Triple-A or something?"
"My membership expired yesterday," Lesgles says. "Isn't that the way?"
That is not the way. Not for Joly, who is prepared for every possibility. "That's really dangerous."
"I don't mind," Lesgles laughs. "The weather is good and it isn't far. It's an adventure." In the background, a car whizzes by. Someone honks a horn.
"Where are you?" Joly reaches into his pocket for his keys. "I don't want you to get hit by a car. I don't think my nerves would ever recover from listening to that happen."
Joly never gets around to mentioning that he isn't really renting a room.