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Impulse: May, 1829
For some time, Pontmercy has avoided the Cafe Musain, or at least has not visited it when anyone who knows him was present. He resurfaces again one evening with a dazed expression and three books. The first of these goes to Enjolras at the beginning of the evening with a murmured, "Thank you -- I hadn't any time to read it," the second, a bit later on, to Prouvaire with, "It was -- um, I think I didn't understand it, or at least I didn't understand your notes," and then when people begin to leave, Courfeyrac receives the third. There is a note sticking out of it. "Thank you," Pontmercy says earnestly, "and I am sorry, very sorry." Courfeyrac takes it, blinking at him. "Sorry for what?" Pontmercy blushes and turns away. "Never mind." "Now I'm curious," Courfeyrac says mildly. "What did I miss?" "Nothing," and he walks out quickly. Courfeyrac shakes his head, and flips through the pages absent-mindedly, pausing to examine the paper tucked between them. It proves longer than he thought, and he ends up reading the note through in growing bemusement. At the end of it he shakes his head again, stands up, and with vague farewells to the remaining stragglers, goes out. Pontmercy is standing some distance down the street, attempting unsuccessfully to pretend that he was not watching the back door. When Courfeyrac comes out, he presses his hat down more firmly on his head and walks briskly toward the corner. Courfeyrac catches up with him after a minute. "What's all this nonsense, my boy?" Pontmercy's jaw sets. He walks faster and does not turn his head, as though Courfeyrac could have been addressing anyone else. Courfeyrac, nothing daunted, catches him by the shoulder. "Marius. What's on your mind?" Pontmercy stops abruptly. "I thought I made that quite clear." Courfeyrac sidesteps to face him. "You made it quite clear you were most distressed over something, but I'm damned if I can make out what it is. Talk to me." Pontmercy frowns at the ground rather than look at his face. "I have imposed on your good will far too many times. I won't, again. I'm sorry." "Bless the boy! Have I ever complained?" Courfeyrac gives his shoulder a little shake. "If I minded you, I'd have said so." Pontmercy backs away a step. "I didn't say you'd complained. I said I'll leave you in peace." "My dear man, nobody asked you to." A frown. "Did they?" "No," although there is a hesitation in the answer. Courfeyrac studies him a moment, then puts an arm around his shoulders. "What happened?" Pontmercy freezes. "I'm sorry. I should go home." "Whatever for?" lightly. "Come and talk to me." "I shouldn't take up your time." His voice wavers. Courfeyrac pats his shoulder. "I've all the time in the world, mon ami. Let's go somewhere better lit, shall we?" Pontmercy sighs and gives up. "All right." Courfeyrac nods, and steers him along for a couple of blocks, around a corner, and into a small rather ramshackle building, where there are enough people to provide background noise and enough light to see your hand in front of your face, if little more than that. He nudges Pontmercy toward a chair, and sits down across from him. "So." Pontmercy sits and looks at his lap, a stray curl falling into his face. "I should have left you alone last year, after I, um, first realized I was intruding." "Intruding on what, pray tell?" "On your privacy," with a note of exasperation. Pontmercy looks up at him with an expression that says he cannot be as much of an idiot as he seems. Courfeyrac looks back at him blandly. "I hadn't noticed." Pontmercy shakes his head. "No? Your friends -- do that sort of thing often, do they?" "What sort of thing?" Pontmercy blushes. "Good God, if you've forgotten already." "I seem to have," mildly. "I --" Pontmercy puts his head in his hands. Courfeyrac reaches out to touch his arm lightly. "It's all right." "I should never even have spoken to Daniel," Pontmercy says, pulling away from him with a disgusted look on his face. Courfeyrac blinks twice. "...oh." The response to this sterling piece of wit is the sound of Pontmercy's head colliding with the tabletop at not inconsiderable speed. "Lord," Courfeyrac sighs. "D'you think I hold that against you?" Pontmercy mumbles something. "Hmm?" "I don't know," very clearly enunciated. "Daniel's rather irresistible," Courfeyrac says mildly. Pontmercy gets up so fast that it's a wonder he doesn't strain anything. "I didn't mean to do anything," he says, attempting to prove his sincerity through volume and vehemence. Courfeyrac starts a little, but stays where he is, reaching out a hand. "Of course. Of course you didn't, sit down, would you? I'm not accusing you of anything." "I'll leave you alone, I will, I promise." Pontmercy starts for the door and brushes by a startled waiter. "God in heaven," Courfeyrac says, exasperated, and follows. "Why are you following me?" Pontmercy asks when Courfeyrac has caught up again. "I only want to leave you alone so that you can be happy without my causing problems." "But I don't want to be left alone, you see." Courfeyrac flashes his most charming smile. "So we're rather at cross purposes. What problems, exactly, do you think you're causing?" Pontmercy gives him a confused look and stops. "I don't think I'm causing problems, now, but if I started spending time around all of you again, I'd only be in the way, asking stupid questions and, and doing stupid things." "You don't ask such very stupid questions," grinning at him. "And you aren't in the way." "I was before." "Not that I ever noticed." Pontmercy blushes again. "Your friends don't like me. And I -- I did stupid things." Courfeyrac puts an arm around him again. "Now that's nonsense. How do you know they don't like you?" Pontmercy avoids looking at him. "I'm not a fool. They always hush when I walk in, and move around a bit as though they'd been playing some sort of game before I arrived." "Ah," vaguely. "Ah, yourself," irritably. "And you say they like me? Perhaps, but they don't trust me." "It's only politics," Courfeyrac says, conciliatory. "They know you won't be interested." "How would they know if they won't say it in front of me?" Pontmercy sighs. "It's nothing personal." Courfeyrac hugs him lightly, one-armed. Pontmercy leans on his shoulder for a moment before realizing he's done it. "I should go," reluctantly, pulling away. Courfeyrac kisses his cheek, in what might be construed as a fraternal manner. "If you must." Pontmercy looks at him for a long moment. "You can't want me around," softly. An arched brow. "Why not?" "After everything?" "Everything was not as much as you suppose. And I rather like your company, when you're not being tragic." Courfeyrac half grins. Pontmercy bites his lip. "Then everything's all right?" "As far as I'm concerned, certainly." "And -- and your friend?" A pause, then a shrug. "Daniel's far too busy with his girl to worry over last year's ... peccadilloes." Pontmercy gives him a wide-eyed look. "Oh." Courfeyrac smiles at him, running a hand down his arm. "Don't worry." Pontmercy hugs him. "I'm sorry." Courfeyrac returns the embrace readily, patting his back. "Everything's all right." "I didn't know." "Hmm?" "I didn't realize you were alone," softly. "It's all right. Why should you?" Pontmercy sighs and lets him go. "Are you all right?" Courfeyrac shrugs, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "Well enough." "Should I go?" Courfeyrac gives him a long look. "If you want to." Pontmercy looks at the street and doesn't answer. "If, on the other hand," softly, "you cared to come home with me--" "Oh, God." Pontmercy backs away. "You must be joking." Courfeyrac watches him rather sadly. "For the company, is all. It's all right, you needn't." "Oh," again. "All right." "If you'd rather not, I quite understand." A quick, bright smile. "We'll see you tomorrow, then?" "You're the only one who's willing to pretend you're happy to see me," Pontmercy says, looking away. "You exaggerate," gently. Pontmercy shakes his head. After a moment, Courfeyrac puts out a hand to touch his cheek. "Look, I--" "What?" Pontmercy asks. There is something like fear in his eyes. "I'm sorry," quietly. "I didn't mean to-- discomfit you." "Nor I you." "You haven't. Unless it's by being damnably pretty.-- Oh --hell." He turns away. "Sorry. Sorry, mon ami." Pontmercy blushes. "Aimery." "Sorry." Courfeyrac rakes a hand through his hair. "I'm really not very reassuring, am I? Go on. It's all right, I'll be sensible tomorrow." "I won't see you tomorrow or the day after," Pontmercy says, his voice shaking a bit. "I won't see you at all, I said that." "All right," sounding defeated. "I'm sorry." Pontmercy follows him a few steps and kisses his cheek. Courfeyrac turns and embraces him tightly. "I'm sorry I'm such a fool." "You're not. No more than anyone else." Pontmercy sighs and holds him tightly. After a bit the tension leaves Courfeyrac's shoulders, and he recovers enough self-possession to thump Pontmercy on the back. "All right?" Pontmercy kisses his cheek again. "I suppose." "You suppose?" Pontmercy sighs a shuddering sigh and tries the kiss again, in case he gets the point this time. "Marius," softly in his ear, "you make it very difficult for me to behave myself." Pontmercy shivers but doesn't let him go. Courfeyrac winds a hand in his hair. "And here I had all the best intentions." "I'll disappear tomorrow," Pontmercy promises. "Don't do that," kissing his cheek in turn. "I'd wonder where you'd gone." "Nowhere in particular." "And I'd feel badly." Pontmercy shrugs. "It'd be better for you." "I don't see how." "I wouldn't be in your way." Courfeyrac lets him go enough to look him in the eye. "Come home with me tonight," low and breathlessly. Pontmercy blushes. "I --" "Please?" kissing him lightly. Pontmercy returns the kiss with enthusiasm. After a brief moment Courfeyrac pulls away, flushed. "Not here." "All right," breathlessly. Courfeyrac turns away to start down the street, tugging him along. Pontmercy follows, stumbling a little. It is not a terribly long walk, but Courfeyrac is somewhat out of breath by the time they arrive. He lets them in briskly, shuts and locks the door, and kisses Marius precipitately. Marius makes a small noise and embraces him. "God you're pretty," running desirous fingers through his hair. "God save me, you ought to tell me to keep my hands to myself, I don't know if I've the willpower." Marius knots a hand in his jacket. "You don't have to say that," he says, though his voice is somewhat choked. "Oh, but I do," kissing him again. "No, you don't." "Truth. Oh, my God, mon ami, this is mad, this is mad. Kiss me." "What's so mad about it?" Marius asks breathlessly. "Everything." Courfeyrac grins at him. "Bed." Marius kisses him several times in a flurry. Aimery laughs, clinging to him. "Bed, mon ami, you'll knock me over." Marius blushes. "All right." He lets go a little. It is not clear whether he could keep his feet under him if he tried to stand alone. Aimery tugs him in the right direction, and collapses onto the side of the bed. "God--" Marius half-sits, half-falls beside him. "D'you want me to go?" "No," kissing him again, "no, no, no. Stay." "Oh," before kissing him back. "All right." Aimery tangles a hand in his hair, pulling him closer. Marius embraces him again. Aimery kisses him roughly, biting his lip. "Stay with me," less coaxing than imperative. "God, Aimery," Marius says, only just the other side of incoherence. Aimery pushes him back against the pillow and kisses him again. This seems to destroy any struggling remnants of Marius' sense of self-preservation, for he makes an encouraging noise and tangles his fingers in Aimery's hair. Presently, with a gasping breath, Aimery breaks the kiss and begins fumbling with the fastenings to Marius' trousers. Marius blinks at him in the darkness and kisses him again after a deep breath. "Mmm," breathlessly. "I'm sorry," before embracing him and demanding another kiss, apparently to make it clear that he does not regret that, at least. Aimery obliges him with enthusiasm. "Ah, God," clinging to him. "Let me--" shakily, caressing him. Marius swears again and turns his face away. Aimery catches a desperate breath. "Kiss me." "Oh," Marius says, then sits up a little to pull him closer and kiss him. Aimery embraces him with a soft groan, kissing him back fiercely. Marius runs a hand down his back, shivering. After a minute of this Aimery regains enough awareness to slide a hand between them, scarcely breaking the kiss. Marius untucks his shirt, fumbling with the fabric. Aimery shivers, and knots his free hand in Marius' hair. "I'm sorry," Marius says again. "No," hoarsely. "No. God, don't talk, kiss me." "But --" Marius sighs and complies. "Sweet friend, sweet, sweet boy," between kisses. "Don't talk, don't think, just please, oh, let me--" "Aimery," hoarsely, stroking his hair again. "I'm here," kissing his ear and the side of his neck. Marius tugs on Aimery's waistband, sighing. "God, you're lovely." After a moment Aimery takes the hint, disengaging one hand long enough to unbutton his pants. "I'm not," in protest. "Want you," hazily, before kissing him again. Marius whimpers and embraces him. "God." Gentle, insistent fingers stroke his skin. "You are." "I --" Marius blinks at him without seeing anything. "Beautiful," in a low, strained, blurred voice. "Let me. Let me do this." "Oh, God." Marius covers his mouth with one hand. Aimery leaves off what he's doing for a moment, then resumes with dampened fingers. "Ah, mon ami--" Marius makes a low, strangled noise and grips his shoulder tightly for a long moment, then lets go and covers his face entirely. "Oh, God," faintly. "I --" Aimery embraces him tightly. "Shh." "That was, oh, Aimery --" "Mm?" indistinctly. "That was lovely." Aimery takes a deep breath. "Good." Marius blinks at him. "I -- um." He blushes. "I'm sorry." "Why...?" "I can't quite do that." He yawns. "Oh. I still have my shoes on." "So you do." Aimery buries his face in Marius' shoulder for a moment. "Sorry." "It's all right," dazedly, stroking his hair. "I'm exhausted." Aimery detaches himself, a little shakily, and moves down the bed to divest him of them. "Oh," and a yawn. "Thank you. I should, um, do that." Aimery shakes his head slightly, and pats him on the leg. "Go to sleep. It's all right." "Are you sure?" "'course." Marius stretches a little and yawns again. "Thank you." He seems to drift off in the middle of the word. * * * * *At some dark hour of the morning, Pontmercy wakes up and finds that there is an arm around his waist. He buries his face in the pillow to think about this for a minute, then gently attempts to disentangle himself. Courfeyrac sighs, clutching half-consciously at the other's shirtsleeve. Pontmercy frowns and pulls away, stepping onto the cold floor with one foot. Another sigh, and, waking up a little more, "'s matter?" Pontmercy swears. "Go to sleep," he suggests softly. "Don't go." Not in comprehension, for which he's not nearly awake enough, but like an anxious child. "Don't..." "I'm sorry. I have to." Courfeyrac catches his hand again in something like panic, tugging at him mutely. Pontmercy stares at him. "Let me go." A sharp intaken breath, halfway to a sob; then he lets go, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?" faintly. "I don't know." Pontmercy backs away until he is well out of reach and fastens his trousers. Courfeyrac glances at the window, then back again quickly. "Can't go anywhere at this hour." Pontmercy picks up his hat. "I can, and I will." "At least stay till morning. Please." It was meant to be a calm and courteous request, but somehow, it doesn't quite come out that way. "I shouldn't be here now." Pontmercy puts on his hat. "I'm sorry, I've imposed on you yet again." He starts for the door. "It won't happen again." "No." Courfeyrac sits up properly, pale. "No, you haven't, and it's not your fault, and I'm sorry, I won't do anything, I won't ask anything of you, but don't leave yet, please." Pontmercy blinks. "I should have left earlier." He puts a hand on the doorknob. Courfeyrac puts his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," again, and then, more hesitant, "What's wrong?" "Nothing," unsteadily, "nothing really. I-- Try not to get killed on your way home, won't you." "What -- Aimery, you can't ask me to stay and then hide, what is it?" Pontmercy walks back toward the bed. "Oh God." He knots his hands together, not looking up. "It's nothing. I just-- would-- appreciate the company. That's all." Pontmercy sits on the edge of the bed. Courfeyrac looks up at him with a passable semblance of composure, and then ruins it by embracing him tightly. "Sorry." "It's all right." Pontmercy pats his shoulder awkwardly. "Is it?" Courfeyrac seems a little steadier for the contact. "You don't want to be here at all, do you." Pontmercy buries his face in Courfeyrac's shoulder and doesn't answer. Courfeyrac strokes his hair. "It's all right. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry," softly. "Mon ami," Courfeyrac says gently, after a minute. "Go if you want to go. But don't disappear, will you? I'd hate not to see you again." Pontmercy sighs and relaxes into his arms. "I should, though." "Whatever for?" "I shouldn't have kissed you." "I'm glad you did." "I don't see why." Pontmercy sighs again. Courfeyrac ruffles his hair. "Because it was lovely." "It -- not really." "You didn't think so?" a little sadly. Pontmercy blushes. "I don't know." Courfeyrac smiles at him wryly. "My dear man, it's all right to say no. I'm sure I can weather the blow." "It was confusing. I don't know." Pontmercy yawns. Courfeyrac kisses his cheek. "Come back to bed, mon ami. It's late." "I'm sorry." "You've done nothing to be sorry for," gravely. Pontmercy leans on his shoulder. "Are you sure?" Courfeyrac strokes his hair. "Quite sure. On the contrary, you've done me a great favor." "Whatever do you mean?" "I told you -- I appreciate your company." A hesitation. "It's -- very quiet here, lately." Pontmercy gives him a sympathetic look and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry." Courfeyrac smiles a bit and returns the kiss. "It's all right. And--" "Hmm?" "I don't know," running a hand down his back. "You make me feel very wicked, sometimes." Pontmercy frowns. "How do you mean?" "You're so... I don't know. So charming and so serious. Half the time I want to shock you, and the other half I feel I should be on my best behavior." A small smile. "Which, granted, is not very good." "Oh." Pontmercy blushes. "I -- I see. A little." Courfeyrac touches his cheek. "Naïf isn't the word I want. Not really. You're very decorous, but God, I think you'd be good at being indecorous, given the chance." Pontmercy blushes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" "Certainly. But I promised to behave, didn't I?" He drops his hand to Pontmercy's shoulder. "And you're in love with Daniel." Pontmercy stands up, his cheeks furiously red. "I am not." "No? My mistake." Courfeyrac looks up at him with shadowed eyes. "I expect I'm prejudiced. There, sit down, I'm sorry." Pontmercy crosses his arms. "Why did you do all that if that's what you thought?" "Oh, God." Courfeyrac sighs. "Because I like you, and because you're quite terribly handsome and I didn't want to be alone tonight. I thought you mightn't, either. Was I wrong, then?" "No -- I --" Pontmercy sits again. "I didn't know it was normal to seduce someone in love with one's lover," in rather a prim tone. Courfeyrac shrugs. "I expect it isn't." "I'm sorry." "If you don't stop that," still in the same mild, detached tone, "I'm going to have to kiss you again." "Oh." Pontmercy looks at the bedspread. "Damn," Courfeyrac says lightly. "You really didn't like it, did you?" Pontmercy frowns and doesn't answer. Courfeyrac reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Are you angry with me?" "No. No. I'm tired and I've not been fair to you." Courfeyrac blinks. "How so?" He blushes. "You've been, ah, more than kind. I should return the favor." Another blink, and then a smile. "Not while you're tired. I don't think either of us would enjoy that." Pontmercy shakes his head. "I'm sorry." Courfeyrac kisses him. "Oh," says Pontmercy, for he had forgotten the earlier promise. He embraces Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac hugs him. "Told you." "You did," and after a moment's hesitation, he returns the kiss. Courfeyrac pulls him close, with a small, pleased sound. Pontmercy strokes his hair tentatively. "Ah," Courfeyrac says eventually. "That's lovely." "Mm," Pontmercy says in agreement, and yawns. Courfeyrac kisses him again lightly. "Go to sleep, mon ami." "Sorry," again. "It's all right, I tell you. Everything's all right, but you're falling asleep on me, Pontmercy." Courfeyrac ruffles his hair. "Go to sleep, and if you're still apologetic in the morning, it will be time enough to talk about it." "All right." Pontmercy takes his jacket off, hangs it on the end of the bed, and lies down. "Pants," Courfeyrac says like a watchful nanny. Pontmercy frowns and sits up. "All right, all right." While he's undressing, he takes off his waistcoat as well. Courfeyrac grins. "I don't know how you slept as long as you did like that." Pontmercy blushes. "Don't know." Gently, firmly, Courfeyrac takes the discarded clothes off his hands and tosses them onto a chair. "There." "Thank you." With a yawn, Pontmercy lies back. Courfeyrac stretches out beside him, kisses his forehead, and settles back against the pillow. Pontmercy touches his arm sleepily. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine." "All right." He falls silent. Courfeyrac puts an arm around him, and subsides. Pontmercy makes a small noise and puts an arm around his waist. "Goodnight, mon ami," softly. "Goodnight."
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