#theredflag

Pairing: Sephesis Rating: T/sfw Prompt: Apocalypse/Moonlight courtesy of @lilly-white Word count: 2421 Summary: Genesis awakens and is confronted with a post-Shinra era world where Sephiroth has scorched the planet. Sephiroth has faith that his lover will join him.

Grantaire flipped the chairs up on to the tables and sighed. This is what he had been reduced to. He was the cleanup crew at the end of the night. He cursed his past failings as he lifted chair after chair. It wasn’t till he saw another pair of hands lift the chair in front of him that he was brought from his thoughts.

“Need a hand?” Eponine asked, setting the chair on the table.

“Nah,” Grantaire smiled. “I’m almost done anyways. I just have to run the mop over the floor and I’ll be good to go.”

“Mind if I wait with you?” she asked, propping herself against the bar. Grantaire laughed as he pulled out the mop and bucket he had prepared.

“Don’t you want to get home? It’s pretty late” he said, continuing his work.

“Well, yeah,” she said, “but I’d rather not walk by myself.” Grantaire looked up at her and smirked.

“That’s not the Eponine I know...What’s going on?” He saw a grin pull at the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll tell you when you’re done,” she said. Grantaire nodded in understanding and hurried to finish his job. After making sure everything was clean and ready for the next night, Grantaire locked up and escorted Eponine out of the bar. Once they were a good distance away, Eponine placed a soft hand on his arm.

“Taire, I know you’ve got to be bored,” she said quietly. Grantaire grunted an agreement. “Well I am too,” she told him firmly. “I’m tired of just being on stage and doing nothing else.”

“‘Ponine, you know Enjolras is just looking out for you,” he told her.

“I know, and I don’t need him to. I wanted to join you in the first place because I could do jobs and help with the runs and such, not to be paraded in front of a bunch of people every night,” Eponine explained. Grantaire sighed.

“You know he’ll never agree to let you go on a job,” he said.

“I know. That’s why we’re not going to tell him,” Eponine stated, a twinkle in her eye. Grantaire froze.

“No. There’s no way. Enjolras will kill us. If we don’t die on the run, he will absolutely murder us,” Grantaire said, shaking his head.

“Taire, you know we both just need a chance to prove ourselves!” she whined as she grabbed his hands and pulled him forward. “Think about it! We take that easy mission he told Jehan about and we kick its ass!” Grantaire was still shaking his head. “Then, when he sees we did a good job, he’ll have no choice but to let us do other jobs!”

“Enjolras already has more trust issues than any other man I’ve ever met,” Grantaire told her. “If we do this, he’ll hate us more than anything.”

“Please Taire,” Eponine begged. He hated seeing her like this. He knew she felt the exact same way that he did.

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll think it over,” he said quietly. “Anyways, what’s Enj going to do if something happens to you and you can’t sing that night?” Eponine shrugged.

When Courfeyrac got home he found Combeferre sitting on the bed, flipping through one of his books. Courfeyrac murmured a greeting as he pulled off his tie and began taking his shirt off.

“Are you going to give your girlfriend a call?” Combeferre asked without looking up from his book.

“It’s nothing like that. She was drunk and just having fun,” Courfeyrac told him as he slid his pants off.

“She was having a lot of fun when she grabbed your ass as you walked by.”

“It was nothing,” Courfeyrac insisted, crawling over on the bed to look at him over his book.  

“Nothing like the kiss she planted on your face before her friends pulled her out of the bar?” Combeferre’s eyes finally rose above the page to meet Courfeyrac’s and let out a strong sense of hurt.

“Ferre, I promise...”

Combeferre lifted the book up to block his face. Courfeyrac sighed, grabbed the book and threw it across the room.

“I’m telling you it was nothing!”

“Women don’t just kiss people! There has to be some sort of signal they pick up on that it’s welcome!” Combeferre suddenly exploded.

“First off, women do randomly kiss me. I don’t get it, but they do.” Courfeyrac immediately figured out from Combeferre’s expression that that was the wrong thing to say. “Look, what I mean is, I have to flirt with these women, Ferre.”

“You don’t have to,” Ferre mimicked, turning away from him. Courfeyrac turned his face back around.

“I do. When I first started working for the Red Flag, I was the biggest flirt Chicago had ever seen. If I don’t keep it up, people are going to suspect that I’m seeing someone.” Courfeyrac paused to let it sink in. “I don’t want them to find out it’s you and we get in trouble.” Combeferre let out a deep breath, trying to think of any way he could argue with Courfeyrac.

“Of course you’re right again,” Ferre admitted. Courfeyrac kissed him on the cheek.

“I know I am,” he said with a grin. “Now. Let’s not worry about that and have the rest of the night just to ourselves.”

“Alright,” Combeferre said with a smile, kissing Courfeyrac on the lips. As Courfeyrac climbed on top of him, Combeferre pulled his lips away.

“Are you still going to be running jobs for Enjorlas?” he asked softly.

“Probably,” Courf replied. “He said he’s got a new job for us. Something a bit dangerous.” Combeferre’s face paled a bit.

“Please be careful,” he whispered. “A bank robbery is going to be so much harder now. I don’t know why Grantaire...”

“A bank robbery?” Courfeyrac asked, leaning back. “Enj said it was a really expensive bottle of Scotch.” The two stared at each other in silence. What all did Enjolras have planned for them?

“Dear God, be safe!” Combeferre warned, pulling Courfeyrac down on top of him and holding him close.

As the lights came up, Courfeyrac began his rounds once more through the tables. At every table with men, he was one of the guys. At every table with women, he flirted, and occasionally left a house phone number. For every table with couples, he was the proper gentlemen. And his tips reflected it.

One rather enthusiastic table of ladies had insisted that he sit with them for a moment. While he swore that he’d love to but his boss was sitting just a few tables over, one particularly strong-willed lady had pulled him down into the seat next to her. As she flirted with him and he gave a few flirtatious comments back, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Combeferre at the bar, who was trying discreetly to watch him without straight-up staring at him. Courfeyrac felt a twinge of guilt as the lady wrote her number on a napkin and slid it into the waistband of his pants as she sent him on his way. He quickly made his way around the tables and then up to the bar.

“Boss! I need another rum on the rocks and a whiskey on the rocks,” Courfeyrac called out. He had purposely stood next to Combeferre with hopes of speaking to him. Instead, Combeferre gently pulled the napkin from Courfeyrac’s pants, sending a bit of a shiver through his body, and then handed it to him.

“I think you forgot about this,” Ferre told him. “You don’t want your tables thinking you were a call boy or something, would you?” Courfeyrac let out a laugh. He wanted to snark back at him something fierce, but he knew others would instantly pick up on their familiarity.

“Thanks. I had forgotten,” he said quietly. When Bossuet returned with the drinks, Courfeyrac disappeared as quickly as he could back into the sea of patrons, silently cursing himself.

The night never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning before the last patrons left. Courfeyrac plopped himself in a chair and looked around the bar. Combeferre had left hours before. He finally pulled out his tips and began counting them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joly said as he sat down next to him. “Show off just how much money you earned tonight.”

“I told you, you should work tables!” Courfeyrac told him with a wink. “Anyways I bet I’d still get better tips than you.” Joly rolled his eyes as the others pulled up chairs and joined them. It wasn’t long before Enjolras stood before them.

“I’ve got some exciting news,” he said, a light in his eyes they hadn’t seen in awhile. “We’ve got a new job.”

“I thought we had an upcoming job?” Jehan asked.

“This is another one,” Enjolras stated quietly. “And it’s going to be a tad more dangerous.”

“What are we after?” Grantaire asked. “Is it a large order?”

“No,” Enjolras started. “It’s a single bottle.” The group looked at each other in uncertainty. “It’s a bottle of Macallan Scotch that was secretly imported.” Grantaire whistled in awe.

“How are we going to afford that exactly?” he asked.

“There is a buyer; we’re only the middlemen,” Enjolras told them.

“Seems like a lot of trouble,” Bahorel mused.

Eponine was no stranger to the underworld. In fact, she had been born into it. Her father pretty much ruled the entire Southside and hardly anyone dared to mess with him. It was every police officer’s dream to bring him in, but somehow he always managed to slip through their fingers.

As his daughter, Eponine had learned how to fend for herself at a young age. She was capable of pick-pocketing and conning at the age of five and was better at picking locks than half of the inmates of the Cook County Jail. By the age of thirteen, she had bested most of the men working for her father in pulling off jobs. But by the age of sixteen, her father saw her more of as a way to earn money than as a daughter. It wasn’t long after that she ran away and ran into Grantaire in the middle of a job. After proving herself more helpful than a hindrance to him, he quickly introduced her to Enjolras who secured her a place as the headline entertainer. It didn’t take long for her voice to win over the patrons, who soon thereafter demanded her voice every night.

For this new opportunity at life, she was eternally grateful to Enjolras. However she did find that she missed running odd jobs here and there. Every time she proposed an idea to Enjolras for a chance for to go on a job, he’d immediately tell her no, stating it would be too much of a risk to lose her. It would always end in a heated argument, and Enjolras would always win, one way or another.

It takes more than money to be a successful man. It takes restraint for not spending the money he has on foolish things. It takes courage to risk what he has to gain more. It takes patience to know when the right time to use his courage is. And it also takes charisma to convince others that he needs their money - and to get them to give it to him.

Enjolras had more than any man’s fair share of charisma.

As he sat next to one of Chicago’s wealthiest men, one would never imagine that he felt the slightest bit out of place or even just a bit awestruck with how easily that man would throw away money, even during such economic hardships. No one would ever guess that he was the same person who would much rather quietly sit back in his office, planning his next big move, while he spoke with such animation that you’d think his conversation partner had been his friend for years. No one but his closest of friends could have seen the spark of excitement and fear that shone in his eyes as his guest proposed one of the toughest jobs he had ever heard.

“You can seriously arrange this?” Enjolras asked, his eyebrows raised. The man laughed.

“Of course I can,” he said. “The only thing I can’t do is get it myself.” Enjolras thought it over in silence.

“These are some very high risks you’re having me send my men into,” Enjolras told him finally.

“You will be well compensated for it,” the man said, “if you can deliver.”

Combeferre’s words from before echoed through his mind. This would certainly give them a cushion if they pulled it off, especially if they could pull off a bank robbery too.

“We’ll do it,” Enjolras said with a smile. The man extended his hand and shook on the deal.

“You’re late.”

“No I’m not,” Courfeyrac insisted.

“You are,” Joly said, shoving his watch in Courfeyrac’s face.

“Your watch is fast!”

“It’s not!”

“Does it even matter?” Courfeyrac demanded.

“Someone has to wait the tables!” Joly told him.

“Then why don’t you? All you do is sit around and twiddle your thumbs until one of us gets hurt!” Courf said as he pulled his waiter’s vest on over his shirt. Joly rolled his eyes.

“I help out when I’m needed!” he pouted. Courfeyrac had already disappeared into the bar to help Bossuet set up. Joly turned and went to the kitchen to see if Feuilly needed any help cooking.

Courfeyrac took a look around the place as patrons slowly began to trickle through. Bahorel was stationed out front, letting only a few people in at a time so as not to draw attention. Bossuet had the bar prepped and ready to go. Feuilly and Joly were in the kitchen awaiting orders while Jehan was backstage with Eponine, ready to perform. This was Enjolras’s well-oiled machine. Courfeyrac took a deep breath, feeling it was going to be a good night.

Back in his office, Enjolras waited as Combeferre flipped through the ledger and calculated everything that had been recorded over the last week. As cool and collected as he was, Enjolras couldn't help but feel a little nervous every time he saw Combeferre frown as he was working. Finally, he shut the books.

“Well?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre sighed.

“Not bad, but not good either,” he replied.

“Explain.”

“We’re pulling in a fantastic profit,” Combeferre said. “Sales are going up and we’re getting more patrons.”

“Which is good,” Enjolras stated, not seeing the problem.

“Yes, it is,” Combeferre started, “but it’s upping our maintenance costs and our food costs. We already charge the patrons an arm and a leg for their drinks, so we can’t increase the prices any more. We need a cushion. We need money from another source.”

Enjolras sat down as he thought things over. A slight smile crossed his face.

“I might be able to get a little extra tonight. A big spender is coming in to get some of the shipment we got in today. Maybe he’ll be willing to invest,” Enjolras said. Combeferre shook his head.

“He’ll expect a return for his money eventually. We need the money out right. Something that people won’t expect anything back if they give it to us,” Combeferre mused.

“We could just take it,” Grantaire mumbled. Enjolras looked over his shoulder forgetting the man was there.     

“Take it?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A good ol’ bank robbery like we used to do,” Grantaire told him.

“It’s risky,” Enjolras thought aloud.

“Everything is going to be,” Combeferre told him. “We’re in a risky business.” Enjolras nodded in agreement.

“Will we be ok for a week or two?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre shrugged.

“As long as upcoming jobs go off without a hitch and nothing flat out breaks, we should do ok.” He tapped his chin in thought. “If we can promote that new stuff you got, it might turn a good profit.”

“Ok,” Enjolras said. “We’ll carry on for now and I’ll plan out a heist for the upcoming week or so. If all goes well, it’ll give us some leeway.” Combeferre nodded and put the books back in the safe.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to go meet with that patron I was telling you about. He was the one who insisted I get this alcohol after all,” Enjolras told them as he led the two of them out of the office and locked it behind him. He disappeared down the hallway, leaving the two alone.

“Are you sticking around tonight?” Grantaire asked as they slowly walked down the hallways.

“Maybe for a bit. I could use a drink,” Combeferre told him.

“Something bothering you?”