and that's all she wrote

"Honestly, Grantaire. You might need to cut back a bit." Grantaire laughed and shook his head.

"I think we're giving Courfeyrac a tattoo in a little bit. You should join us." Combeferre shook his head.

“You just told a premed student that you’re giving someone a tattoo in your apartment and literally Grantaire, your apartment is trashed.”

“Maybe you should drink some of that vodka and you’ll care a bit less,” Grantaire winked, kissed Combeferre, and left the room. 20 minutes later, Combeferre was at the kitchen table, staring at his hands when everyone came into the room.  Bahorel was carrying a laughing Courfeyrac over his shoulder, and when he set Courfeyrac down on the table, Courfeyrac grew serious.

Grantaire came in a few minutes later, dragging a small cart behind him.

“Is that all your tattoo stuff?” Combeferre asked, and Grantaire looked at him, then the bottle of vodka (which Combeferre had drained) and back at Combeferre before nodded, a grin spreading across his face.

“Courfeyrac, what do you want me to tattoo?” Courfeyrac thought for a moment, his fingers stroking his chin lightly.

“A fucking unicorn,” Courfeyrac said. Bahorel steadied himself on the counter because he was laughing so hard. Grantaire started sketching out a unicorn under Courfeyrac’s guidance.

“No, fuck that man the mane and tale have to be pink. The horn has to be purple. But the unicorn has to be white. Also, fuckin’ draw a lens flare on the horn man.” Grantaire shook his head as he finished the sketch and showed it to Courfeyrac, who nodded.

“Where do you want it?” Grantaire asked, grabbing his gloves and ink. Bahorel plugged in his tattoo machine and Courfeyrac’s eyes lost focus as he thought (which happened when he got drunk and lost in thought).

Courfeyrac grinned, and looked at Grantaire, and stood up, and said: “On my ass!” Grantaire put his hands on Courfeyrac’s arms and said,

“Are you serious?” Courfeyrac nodded and pulled his pants down. He climbed on the table and laid facedown, his arms under his chin. Grantaire grabbed his stencil and looked at Courfeyrac, who was humming quietly. “What cheek?” he asked and Courfeyrac looked up at him.

“Surprise me?” Combeferre leaned back in his chair and looked at Grantaire, pushing his glasses up his nose. Grantaire stenciled the unicorn onto Courfeyrac’s right asscheek and started pulling his gloves on.

“Dude,” Combeferre said. Everybody in the room looked at him (partially because he never said dude). “Courfeyrac is naked on your kitchen table. His junk is on the table, Grantaire. Does anybody eat of his table?” Grantaire shook his head no and started tattooing. He had to pause a few times because either he or Courfeyrac was laughing so hard and he didn’t want to fuck up and if Courfeyrac was going to have a unicorn on his ass for the rest of his life, it might as well be a good looking ass-unicorn.

He was finished in no time and Courfeyrac stayed still as Grantaire cleaned the ink off his ass and rubbed in ointment before covering the tattoo.

“I just fucking caressed your ass, Courf.” Courfeyrac got off the table and jumped onto the counter. Combeferre stood up and took his shirt off.

“I want one, too!” He said through his shirt because somehow he managed to get stuck. Grantaire chuckled and helped him.

“Are you sure, Combeferre?” Combeferre nodded and grabbed his chair, sitting on it backwards.

“I want it on my shoulder blade!” He said, nodding. “I want one of those ones that look like the paintings!” Grantaire raised his eyebrow and Combeferre narrowed his. “Watercolor! I want watercolor!” Grantaire nodded and Combeferre grabbed his wrist. “But I want an iris.” Grantaire chuckled and nodded.

“You’re a fuckin’ nerd.”

To be fair, Combeferre only hissed in pain a few times. Most of the distractions were caused by Joly, who was having a literal panic attack in the corner of the kitchen, yelling about statistics with getting tattoos in kitchens. Then Grantaire was rubbing in ointment, and covering the tattoo and less than twenty minutes later, he was passed out face down on Grantaire’s couch while Courfeyrac was still running butt naked around the apartment.

That was six years ago.

Combeferre was just getting home from the office – his office, he had his own office now – when he got a call from Enjolras, asking if he could come over.

“I’m inviting everyone,” Enjolras said. Combeferre sighed his assent and kicked the door shut behind him. He said his goodbyes to Enjolras and dropped his things on the couch and going into the kitchen. He saw that Courfeyrac had left him a note on the table, politely asking if they could have enchiladas for dinner. He sent a picture of the note with a ‘not tonight, but I have tomorrow off’ to Courfeyrac and went to the kitchen, planning on making something quick when he got a call from Courfeyrac.

“Bonjour, mon cher,” he said when he answered the phone. Courfeyrac laughed.

“Are you just now getting home?” Courfeyrac asked, and Combeferre hummed.

“Yeah. Can you grab pizza on the way home? I have to get groceries tomorrow.”

“Are the guys coming over?” Courfeyrac asked. Combeferre hummed again and grabbed a two litre of soda out of the fridge. “So I actually need to get like ten pizzas and a box of condoms to throw at Enjolras and Grantaire.” Combeferre laughed as he pulled a cup out of the cabinet.

“Only if you throw each condom individually and from different parts of the room.” Courfeyrac laughed.

“I’m leaving the office in a few minutes; I’ll call in a pizza. I gotta go if I want to get out in the next five minutes though. I love you.”

“I love you too, Courfeyrac.”

“I will never get over hearing you say that.” Combeferre blushed.

“Likewise, mon amour.” Courfeyrac laughed, said ‘I love you,’ again, and hung up. Twenty minutes after that, Combeferre was enjoying a glass of wine when there was a knock on his door. The door opened and Enjolras came in, Grantaire attached to his hand, and the rest of his friends behind him. He drained the wine glass and put it in the sink.

“Where’s Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked.

“He was leaving work about twenty minutes ago.” Enjolras nodded and everybody seated themselves around the kitchen table, chatting amongst themselves until Courfeyrac came in with the pizzas. He set the pizzas on the counter and kissed Combeferre before burying his face in Combeferre’s neck. Enjolras cleared his throat.

“We have something to show you,” he said, standing up and taking off his jacket. He held his arm out, proudly, revealing a shiny tattoo; the exact same tattoo Combeferre had gotten on that drunken night at Grantaire’s in college, and the same one that Courfeyrac had gotten after they’d been together for a year. Combeferre looked at the tattoo, and up at Enjolras’ face, and Enjolras’ face fell. “I mean, I can understand if it was your thing,” he said, gesturing towards Courfeyrac and Combeferre. The couple shared a look and Combeferre shook his head.

“I’m touched, really.” He said. Enjolras grinned and sat down, and next Grantaire pushed his shirtsleeve up to reveal the same tattoo on the opposite arm. Bahorel’s hand was shoved in his face and Jehan showed off his sandaled feet. Courfeyrac buried his face in Combeferre’s neck and sniffed, and Combeferre wrapped his arms around him. Cosette and Marius were next, showing off their linked hands, until Combeferre saw their wrists. Eponine pushed her hair behind her ear to show the same tattoo, but smaller. Joly and Bossuet lifted up their shirt sleeves, revealing the tattoo on their left shoulders and Joly spoke up.

“It was terrible and unsanitary but Musichetta got it, too.” Combeferre’s eyes pricked with tears.

Feuilly burst into the apartment, out of breath. “I’m late, I’m sorry. Got held up at work.” He came into the kitchen and took off his jacket before pulling up his t-shirt to reveal an iris over a watercolor background over his ribcage.

Courfeyrac wiped at his eyes after pulling away from Combeferre’s neck. “I hate you. Eat my pizza and get out of my house.” Combeferre’s grin split his face.

“Honestly,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You lot are the best group of friends any man could ask for.” Bahorel’s cheers drowned out the sound of Jehan bursting into tears. Cosette wiped at her face and Marius wrapped his arms around her.