Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Alright, but you know I’m not, like... historically great with kids? You know they don’t like me, right?” Combeferre’s lost track of how many times he’s adjusted his tie. Courfeyrac says he doesn’t need it. He’s wearing it anyway, because first impressions are important, and meeting your boyfriend’s extended family is no time to cut corners. Even if that means wearing a tie to a cookout.

“Well, we can eat at the grown up table if you want, but if Aunt Lena’s there, they’re going to get into politics and it’s going to be uncomfortable for all of us. Organizing the kids table for a game of water gun tag is way more fun.” Combeferre rolls his eyes, and Courf stands on his tip toes to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “They’re going to love you, don’t worry! And if they don’t, well, half of them live in Colombia anyway, so we won’t have to see them that often. It’ll be okay. I mean, it’s probably going to be a lot, but we can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I just want them to like me.”

“They will. Trust me.”

“Quiz me on who’s related again?” Courfeyrac rolls his eyes. The light turns green, and they start forward as Courf asks whose son Sebastian is, and Combeferre focuses on remembering the family web so he can’t worry.

They get to Courf’s parents’ house sooner than he’s ready, a sprawling ranch style that Combeferre’s been to a million times. Never for a family reunion, but still. The sight of the window he used to crawl through or the tree they used to climb every day after school helps him relax a bit. Beside him, Courf is all but bouncing in the seat, demonstrating for the upteenth time why he’s not allowed to drive them places. There are people on the big wrap around front porch, and even before the car is off, Courf is on his way to greet them. By the time Combeferre gets it parked and gets out himself, there are at least three children around Courfeyrac’s legs, and he’s picking one of the youngest up to talk to her. He’s so happy that for a minute, Combeferre forgets to be worried. If these are the people who produced someone as loving as Courfeyrac, he’s going to be fine.

Courf waves him over, introducing his cousins. He calls Combeferre his boyfriend, which is normal, but still feels special, especially with kids. One of them asks what Combeferre does, and Courf explains that he’s a scientist helping people get better, and then the questions start. One of them asks if Combeferre ever helps people who threw up because the plane was shaky, because they had to sit next to someone who did that on the flight from Colombia and they didn’t like it. Another kid asks why people throw up when planes shake, and Combeferre explains that their brains don’t like it when they’re sitting still but moving, so they think something’s wrong and make people throw up to fix it. And suddenly, there are four pairs of wide eyes trained on him, and Combeferre has accidentally become the center of attention from an enraptured and growing crowd of children.

Courfeyrac goes to greet his aunts and uncles, but Combeferre stays with the little cousins, telling them about why they need shots and get scabs and why their ears hurt on planes. When it’s time to eat, he’s dragged to the kids’ table, where he explains what happens when they eat and why some people are allergic to things and why dinosaurs are on bandaids. When he eventually has to go introduce himself to some of the adults, Sebastian insists on being the one to do it, so Combeferre gets pulled around by a very excited eight year old, Courfeyrac following them to help with introductions.

They eventually convince the kids to play hide and seek, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac both go for the best spot in the house. Somehow, they manage to squeeze in together trading shushes and giggles easily.

“I thought you said you were bad with kids,” Courfeyrac says once they’re somewhat settled.

“I thought I was. I don’t know why they like me so much.”

“Maybe because you’re amazing, and wonderful, and smart, and the best boyfriend on the planet?” Combeferre feels the heat in his cheeks, but between his skin tone and the darkness of their hiding place, he’s pretty sure Courfeyrac can’t tell.

“I just thought... I mean, Gavroche likes me, but that’s because I don’t treat him like a kid because he’s way too mature for that. I thought... I thought normal kids would hate me. I thought they’d love you, because everyone loves you, but I’d be stuck making small talk with your siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles while you were off with the nephews and nieces, not the other way around.”

“Wow, if only someone had predicted that the kids would love you,” Courfeyrac mutters, and Combeferre shoves him, earning a squawk as Courfeyrac struggles to stay hidden.

It’s all for naught, as Sebastian’s head pokes in a minute later to say, “you’re not any good at this. If you’re so smart why didn’t you hide by yourself?”

Courfeyrac says something about letting him find them, and Sebastian rolls his eyes, leaving them to figure out how to get out of their hiding spot without hurting each other while he looks for the others. On their way back to base, Courfeyrac says, “you know how you’re always saying if we had kids I’d be good with them? Well, you’d be a great dad, too. Not now, but you know, in the future. If a kid ever needed our help, you’d be good at it.”

Chapter Text

It happens after an outdoor meeting, in the gathering twilight of a summer night, a bonfire slowly dying behind them. The stars are just starting to come out, and she’s walking down a park path toward home when she hears a sound behind her. When she turns, Cosette is there.

“Eponine? Can...” she’s not sure she’s ever seen Cosette like this. Cosette is usually so sure of herself, so open and happy. She’s always small, sure, but usually that smallness is eclipsed by her excitement at the world. Now, though, she just looks small and unsure, and Eponine isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do other than turn, stepping off the path a bit in case anyone else needs to pass.

“What is it?”

“Why... why do you hate me?”

It’s such a bizarre question that Eponine has to fight the urge to take a step back. “What?”

“I... I know you probably have lots of reasons to be upset, and I’m sorry things were so hard after I left, but is... is there anything I’ve done personally to make you mad, or anything I can do to fix things? I... I’m sorry for everything growing up, but if we’re going to be friends now, and I... I do want to be friends, and keep having the same friends and doing things like this a lot, I... I think maybe it’ll be easier if I can fix things.”

“I don’t hate you, Cosette. I don’t think anyone could hate you,” Eponine says gently. “You... you’re such a good person, even after everything growing up... if anything, you should hate me. I was awful to you.”

“No, you... you were hurting, too. You didn’t deserve parents like them. Neither of us deserved that,” Cosette says. Eponine is staring at the ground, but she sees Cosette’s dark hand reach for her, then pull back, hesitating. “But if... if you don’t hate me, then why... you avoid me. In meetings, and at rallies, and that day we did the mural, and even tonight, you ignore me, or you leave when I show up. Tonight as soon as Grantaire started playing his guitar for me to sing to, you left to get more marshmallows and all but waited until we were done to come back. I... I thought you hated me still, from when we were kids. But if... if you don’t, why do you always leave?”

Eponine wonders briefly if this is some new kind of hell dimension. Maybe she’s fallen through a portal out of the shitty parents circle of hell and into this one.

She risks a look at Cosette, her pink braids and her brown eyes and the earnestness in her face. And every last one of her brain cells dedicates its final moments of life to studying this goddess in front of her. Cosette frowns a bit, and Eponine realizes she’s staring. She’s being weird. Oh god, she needs to stop being weird. She needs to say something.

“I... I don’t... when I’m around you, it’s like... like I can’t think? it... I don’t know, my brain gets all...”

“Ponine? Am... am I a trigger for you? I’m so sorry; I can--”

“It’s not that. It’s not... it’s not a bad thing. It’s like everything...” Eponine takes a second for a deep breath, trying to get her thoughts together. “It’s so much. In my head, I mean, there’s always so much happening. Because there’s work, and class, and where we’re going to get food or rent money from, and if we can afford to keep the lights on this month or if I’ll have to pick up a shift, and if I buy this textbook will we be able to make rent. But when I look at you, that all... stops. And I... a lot of times that’s scary. Because if I’m not thinking about the things that are going to keep me and Gavroche as stable as we are right now, then I don’t... but now, it’s... I don’t hate you, I just... I’m sorry; can we sit?”

There’s a bench nearby, and they do sit, but Cosette still looks worried. She’s turned to face Eponine, one leg on the bench itself and her back resting against the arm.

“I’m... if you don’t want me around, that’s alright. I won’t be--”

“I do. I do want you around. But I just... ugh, I don’t know how to say it.” There’s a hand in hers, tentatively, giving it a little squeeze.

“Take your time. I can be patient,” Cosette says gently. Her thumb is rubbing the back of Eponine’s hand. Eponine’s entire brain narrows down to that one point of contact, the gentle earnestness and sincerity. Slowly, it all fits into place like the pieces of a puzzle. Cosette’s kindness. Her patience. Her quiet strength. The way she makes Eponine’s mountains of stress all but vanish. It’s something Eponine’s known for a while, but she’s never let herself consider it, never dared to imagine...

But Cosette is holding her hand. Cosette is being patient and thoughtful and gentle, and she’s always those things, but it feels different this time. Bigger.

“I think... I think maybe it all feels like this because... because I’m so in love with you.” The words tumble out one after the other, and Eponine realizes them a minute later. She shoots to her feet. “I’m sorry. I... I’ll just...”

“Ponine, wait.” Cosette’s hand is on her wrist, and she could physically pull away, but she’s rooted to the spot. Cosette tugs her back to the seat gently, and Eponine sits like a puppet whose strings have been cut. She can’t look at Cosette, not after something like that. She can’t do it.

There’s something on her temple. A split second later, she realizes it’s a kiss, and she’s turning to look at Cosette incredulously. Cosette just smiles.

“I... I like you, too.” Cosette’s skin is too dark to tell, but she might be blushing. Behind her, a firefly twinkles, then another, tiny stars hidden in the grass.

“You... you do?” Eponine bites back the ‘why’. Cosette nods.

“Ever since we met again. Maybe even as kids, but things... things were harder then. But when you first came to a meeting with R, and I saw how tough you were, and how... how smart, and good at things, and how you loved people so fiercely, I... I wanted that. I wanted to be someone you would fight for.”

Cosette’s small. She’s always been small, even if she hides it behind an abundance of love and joy and excitement. But right now, her smallness means that it’s easy for Eponine to pull her into her lap, easy for her to kiss her like she’s the most beautiful being alive. Cosette smiles into the kiss, and Eponine smiles right back.