Author's Note: after about like eight years of not updating (not literally), I finally write this!! Hope you guys enjoy (especially the actual Les Amis).

January 8th, 1831

Felicité POV:

Curled up in a soft armchair with a wonderful book in my hand, I look up and see Marius darting past the entryway of the library, almost as if he didn't want anyone to see him. I arch my eyebrow and get up from the chair, putting a bookmark in the book to hold my place.

Following Marius to the foyer, I see him shrug on a winter coat, open the door a crack, and slide out of our house. Suspicious, anyone? I quickly pull on my coat and follow after him, staying back a few feet as to not make him think someone's following him creepily.

I follow Marius until he arrives at a small, lopsided café called the Café Musain. Tilting my head in confusion, I follow Marius into the building, perplexed about why he's going here. Getting hit with a blast of warmth the second I open the door, I smile and take off my coat, already warm. Looking around the café, I see patrons and someone behind the bar, somebody who looks frazzled from the business but also enjoying it. Walking up to the bar, I sit down at one of the chairs, waiting patiently until she looks up from... whatever she's doing. I don't work at a café so, quite frankly, I have no clue what's going on here. She looks up at me.

"Bonjour madame," I start politely. "I'm looking for my brother, Marius Pontmercy? You might have seen him somewhere."

"Ahhh, Marius," she chuckles. "The one as thick as a lamppost?" I giggle to myself.

"Even though I'm his sister, that description is accurate," I agree, still laughing.

She points up the stairs. "He's up there, along with nine other men. Well, technically ten. It doesn't really matter though."

"Thanks for your help, madame," I thank her and walk towards the stairs, wondering what crazy mess my brother got into this time.

"Wait!" she calls to me. I turn around and look at her with my eyebrows furrowed, bewildered still. "If Enjolras gives you any trouble, tell him Madame Houcheloup sent you." I smile and nod, making my way up the stairs once more.

I hear many different voices talking in the next room, their voices blending over others so there could be three, eleven, or thirty men in there. Madame Houcheloup informed me that there was eleven, so that's the number I'm going with. I pull the door open, and a hush settles on the room; eleven pairs of eyes turn to me.

"Mademoiselle, I believe you have entered the wrong room," one man starts slowly. "The bathroom is-"

"Oh shut it 'Ferre," a decidedly younger voice chimes from the right, interrupting the man that was talking before. He sounds a bit like Gavroche, which is kind of confusing. I turn to my right and see... Gavroche?

"Gavroche?" I question. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here 'cause... I can't exactly tell you, can I? But the more important question is, why are you here?" Gavroche replies back, smirking.

"You want to know why I'm here?" I ask, eleven heads nodding in unison at my question. "Because 1, Madame Houcheloup sent me. Her exact words were, 'If Enjolras gives you any trouble, tell him Madame Houcheloup sent you.' And 2, I was trying to find-"

"Felicité??" I turn and see my brother staring at me in shock and befuddlement. I sigh.

"Don't you know it's impolite to interrupt, Marius?" I wonder innocently but sassily. The other boys/men snort. Marius blushes red. "To finish my sentence, I was trying to find my brother, but it appears I already have." Clapping echoes from the back of the room. I turn on my heel to see a curly-haired, smirking man dressed in a green vest and with an impish gleam in his eyes.

"Bravo, mademoiselle," he cheers, laughing heartily at Marius's flushed face and pushing his black hair out of his eyes. I smile at him a bit shyly, as really I have no clue who all but two of the people in this room are and they could be serial killers for all I know.

"Thank you, monsieur. This might be the absolute worst time to ask, but who are you?" I ponder aloud, waiting for a reply.

"Oooh!" the man squeals happily as I snort at his exuberance. "I just love introducing everyone to others. I shall start with myself." He stands on a chair, gesturing his arm about wildly as if he was the ringmaster at a circus. "My name is Grantaire, but you can call me R. Almost everyone does," he introduces as I smile.

"And I'm Felicité, Marius's sister," I introduce myself in turn. "It's a pleasure."

"Nice to meet you. Okay, on to the next person." He jumps down from the chair, landing with a crash that I'm pretty sure might have dented the floor. "You obviously know Marius," he mumbles to himself. "Oh! Bahorel," he points at a tall, broad man with light brown hair parted slightly. "He's the one with the daring waistcoats and scarlet opinions. He's somehow becoming a lawyer even though he hates most of them and never wanted to be one anyways." The man, now apparently Bahorel, rolls his eyes.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he greets from across the room doing something that I can't make out from here.

"Now onto Courfeyrac!" R walks over to another black-haired man, this one with a deep red waistcoat and a glimmer in his eyes. "He's the center. The center of the Triumvirate, Enjolras, Combeferre, and this man here," he gestures dramatically towards Courfeyrac, who is standing right in front of him. "You probably know him from the hoardes of fangirls documenting his every move." Courfeyrac snorts, amused at this description of him.

"You can call me Courf," he tells me, rolling his eyes. "R over here likes calling everyone by their full names or making up mythology references for them." R stomps his foot like a child, even though almost all of these men seem like children in adult's bodies.

"Don't tell her already," he whines theatrically. "It'll spoil the introductions!" I laugh at his dramatics, and he winks at me. "See, the lady enjoys them."

"I must say that I do," I agree, giggling.

"And now onto Joly, also known as Jolllly for being the happiest person in our little group. Can we call it a club?" A curly blonde haired man with a scarlet jacket glares at R, opening his mouth to say, probably, that it's not a club. "It's a club."

Courf and another man with sandy brown hair and glasses facepalms. Could the other man be Combeferre?

"He's studying to be a doctor but is a hypochondriac. Not a good combination," R stage-whispers as Joly laughs.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle. I would shake your hand, but I don't want to get you sick or myself." I smile at him and wave. "Ahh, that would work." He waves back at me.

"And now onto Feuilly," R cheers loudly, dancing backwards dramatically over to him (A/N: it's the moonwalk).

"Oh god R," the man apparently known as Feuilly sighs and rests his head in his hand. "Go on then."

"Obsessed with Poland, just as Apollo over here is obsessed with-" here his voice turns mocking, adding a lovestruck note to it- "his Patriaaaa. Feuilly taught himself to read and write and uses his skills to make fans, both to survive and for his amis."

"R, you're making me sound like air supply," Feuilly groans, facepalming hard, as I snicker.

"Rude," R mutters under his breath, just loud enough so that I can hear him. Laughing harder, I motion for him to continue on with his incredible stage performance of the introductions. "Combeferre over here completes and corrects Enjolras, who you will learn more about later. Studying to become a doctor as well, but also enjoys philosophy and has an odd fascination with moths. Ohh, he's reading a book about them right now!" R grins as Combeferre shakes my hand.

"Call me 'Ferre," he tells me, and I nod my head.

"Jean Prouvaire, also known as Jehan, writes incredible poetry that even the king himself should enjoy. But he doesn't, as he is a d-" Courf, appearing out of nowhere, covers R's mouth with his hand. I look at them confusedly until it hits me what R was about to say.

"Uhhh... ohhhhh!" I exclaim. "Don't say that, R!" I reprimand jokingly, finishing my sentence under my breath with, "True as it may be." 

"Mmmph," R mumbles unintelligibly from under Courf's hand. He sighs and lets go of R's mouth. "Thanks for that Courf," R thanks sarcastically. "Anyway Jehan, as much as we love him, has... terrible fashion sense. Sorry Jehan, but it's true." Jehan smiles up at me from where he's writing in a large journal filled to the brim with pages upon pages of... poems I'm assuming. I grin back at him. "Now, Lesgle, also known as Bosseut, also known as L'Aigle, is one of the unluckiest people you could ever meet. He's completely bald at 25. Every day something goes wrong to him. Once I accidentally hit him on the head with a cat and it scratched him. Poor guy. But he's cheerful about it." As Bosseut gets up to shake my hand, he trips over his feet and falls flat on his face. I gasp.

"This happens about three times a day, mademoiselle," he explains from the floor, voice a little muffled. He stands up. "Now let's try this again." He sticks his hand out to me, and I shake it. "Once when I was trying to shake someone's hand I whacked them in the face. It did not go well." I wince.

"That sounds terrible," I tell him, and he laughs.

"I'm fine. Even though I've broken like... hey Joly how many bones are in the body?" Bosseut shouts across the room.

"Uhhh 206. Why?" Joly answers, bewildered.

"'Cause I've probably broken around half of them." My eyes widen in shock as I do the math in my head. That's 103 bones broken. Granted, he's probably being hyperbolic but it doesn't matter. It's a lot of bones.

"And now, the grand finale," R declares exuberantly. "Ahem, drumroll please!!" he drums his hands on Bosseut's head as the man below him snorts. "It's the one, the only Enjolras! I call him Apollo because-" I look at the man in question, who is rolling his eyes so much I feel as if they are about to roll right out of his head. His golden blond hair curls at the nape of his neck, and his sapphire blue eyes pierce into my deep brown as if... I don't have a metaphor for this.

"He looks like the Greek god Apollo," I finish the sentence as R smirks.

"I've corrupted someone else," he faux-whispers. "But yes, that's exactly why I call him Apollo. He's the leader of this club and is completely dedicated to bettering Patria. Once he said that his mistress was Patria. And now we tease him for that."

Enjolras rolls his eyes yet again. "Wonderful, another R," he gripes under his breath. I snort softly and he looks at me, confused.

"What?" I question him. "Have you never seen a woman snort before?" The boys roar with laughter, except for Enjolras. Enjolras stutters, trying to get a response that sounds coherent. He fails. Terribly.

"Now if we could stop making Enjy have a mental breakdown, thanks," Gavroche smirks from his spot on top of a desk.

"It's not 'Enjy,'" Enjolras sighs. "I've told you this multiple times."

"How 'bout Enjy-boo?" Gav grins.

"No! That's even worse." While this conversation, well Gav teasing Enjolras and Enjolras getting annoyed at it, was going on, Marius walked up to me.

"Lissy, you have to leave," Marius whispers into my ear.

"Why?" I retaliate. "These guys seem to like my company. And I'm a mature adult. I can make my own decisions."

"Just trust me. You have to leave," he begs me urgently.

"Again, why? I don't want to leave. You need to tell me why and give a valid reason."

"BECAUSE WE'RE PLANNING A REVOLUTION!!" Marius bursts out, causing the room to fall into an awkward silence.

Author's Note: oh god Marius great job. This'll be good, right? Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. It's a little under 2,000 words so I hope you enjoy it.

           -Kaylin