at the end of the day » les amis

i.ii

KITTIES!!!!!!!

[A/N]

hey! sorry this chapter was so delayed I've been having some mental health issues but the new chapter is here now and that's all that matters

also, this one is dedicated to my best friend who thinks she's psychic

(ps this one is pretty long)

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"The next person to walk into through that door will die a horrible death in the next forty-eight hours," said Jehan gravely.

Cosette looked up from her book, How To Take Down The Entire Patriarchy With Your Bare Hands: A Step By Step Guide. "Why?" she asked simply.

"I have a gut feeling."

"So you're a psychic now?"

Jehan shrugged. "If that old man dies in the next forty-eight hours, then I guess so." They pointed a slender finger ridden with stack rings to the door, and Cosette followed their gaze to see the grumpy elderly Mr. Miller who lived under Enjolras and Combeferre and down the hall from Jehan and Courfeyrac. He complained about noise almost every single time they all met up in one apartment or another, no matter how close or far his flat was from theirs. Joly swore his hearing aid had been tampered with to hear a pin drop from anywhere within a three-mile radius.

"Let's hope so," Eponine scoffed from the couch. "By the way, that 'gut feeling' might just be the omelet Bousset made you this morning."

R pointed an accusing finger at her. "Bousset's omelets are all individual masterpieces that belong in the Louvre and I will not tolerate your blasphemy in my holy temple of eggs and ham." She put up her hands in mock surrender.

*

Enjolras tapped his fingers on the wooden surface of the coffee table, sighed and closed his computer, rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands in front of his mouth, stared out the window for a few moments with eyebrows knit together thoughtfully before reopening his laptop again and continuing to type away furiously.

Courfeyrac turned to Joly and whispered, "Its the fifth time he's done that exact routine today, and it's not even noon yet, which is his usual stressing hour." They were both carefully examining the blond from the safety of the kitchen threshold.

Joly raised an eyebrow. "He has a stressing schedule?"

Courf nodded. "'Ferre made a spreadsheet. Between noon and five is his most worried time period, but it usually peaks around 1:30 and goes down from there."

"I'm surprised he's not stressed later in the night," the doctor admitted. "That's usually when our meetings are.

The brunet shook his head. "Nah, that's where he feels most comfortable. It's his emotional support cafe. So, what's your diagnosis?"

Joly scrunched his nose and knit his eyebrows together, his signature thinking look. "I'd love to help, but this sounds like a psych issue. Have you tried just asking him what's up?"

Courfeyrac opened his mouth to respond but froze. "Actually, no."

"Then do that. My prescription is some TLC from one of his best friends."

"Tender Luscious Chicken?"

Joly nodded sagely. "Yes. Exactly."

Courfeyrac nodded in agreement and slowly moved from the safety of their kitchen into Enjolras's territory. He slowly approached the back of the couch, making as much noise as possible so his presence was known and he didn't scare Enjolras and end up with a pen in his eye. The brunet leaned over Enjolras's shoulder. "Whatcha doin'?"