Work Header

made with love

Work Text:

It wasn’t initially clear where the teddy bears came from. All Enjolras knew was that it was crunch time at university, a few weeks before finals, and that there were two teddy bears on his bed.

He couldn’t tell whether it was genuine perplexity or sleep deprivation (probably both) that led him to stand in front of his bed, bag slumped on the floor beside him, staring in confusion at the bears. Finally, he sat down on the bed and picked them up to better examine them.

One was a light, golden brown color, dressed in a blue hoodie and cockade and adorned with a pair of glasses that, if not for their size and lack of prescription, Enjolras would have sworn were Combeferre’s.

The other bear, well, there was something about the other bear that seemed so familiar, but Enjolras couldn’t quite place why. This bear was black, sporting a red plaid shirt with a hood attached, complete with ear holes and curiously adorned with a tiny, makeshift tricoleur. It also seemed to be holding some sort of green lump, attached to its wrist with elastic.

Further examination had done little to help Enjolras’ understanding of the situation, but luckily for him, an outside source was more than happy to help.

“Do you liiiiiike them?” Courfeyrac squealed, flopping on the bed beside Enjolras and the bears, causing the mattress to bounce slightly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at his energetic friend. “Did you put these here?”

“Put?” Courfeyrac shook his head, auburn curls bouncing, “my friend these are bona fide Build-a-Bears. I put my heart and soul into these for you! Well, I put hearts in them, at least.” Enjolras made a face, looking suspiciously at the bears. “Hey, just be glad I didn’t get you the weird ones that actually beat when you squeeze them.”

“Wait, you’re working there still? Even during the school year?”

Courfeyrac nodded. “I’m pretty good with the kids, so they want me to come in weekends and whenever else I can. I’ll work more over the summer. But more importantly than my work schedule, have you figured out who they are yet?”

“Who they are?”

“Oh c’mon, I pride myself on my bear-building skills. You could say they bare an uncanny resemblance to their human equivalents.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but let out an airy laugh at the bad pun. “Well,” he said, adjusting the glasses on the lighter bear, “this one is obviously supposed to be Combeferre.”

“Correct! This is Combebear. One for one. Can you make it two for two?”

Enjolras frowned at the black bear. “I can’t say I know who you were thinking of with this one.”

“Oh come on, Enjolras, you aren’t that oblivious, are you??” Meeting Enjolras’ blank stare, Courfeyrac coughed. “Sometimes I forgot how oblivious you are. Well, in case the plaid and the hoodie and the bottle,” (Oh so that’s what that green thing was, Enjolras thought.) “weren’t enough of a giveaway, this,” Courfeyrac patted the black bear on its head, “is Granbear.”

“Granbear?” Enjolras paused. “Wait, you made me a bear based on Grantaire? Why?”

Courfeyrac sighed. “Your obliviousness never ceases to amaze.” And with that, he bounced off the bed and was gone as quickly as he had come, before Enjolras could ask any more questions.

“Hmph.” Enjolras frowned at the bears and their stitched-on smiles. He never had been very attached to any of his stuffed animals as a child, and he didn’t expect that to change now. But they were a gift from Courfeyrac, so he would leave them be, at least for a little bit.

He’d almost forgotten about the bears when he finally slinked back into his room after studying with Combeferre around 1AM. He slide under the covers and picked them up to look at them again.

Teddy bears were just glorified pillows, right? Regardless, he carefully removed Combebear’s glasses and put them on the bedside table as he had seem Combeferre do many a time. No sense in getting them crushed, right?

As Enjolras drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but think, huh, these are pretty soft.

Before Enjolras knew it, the bears had become a part of his daily routine. He would stumble into the kitchen in the morning with Combebear in tow, glasses askew, grab a cup of coffee, and Combeferre would find Enjolras mumbling to the bear as he looked over the newspaper on his tablet.

(It took a while for Combeferre to get used to his fuzzy doppelganger, but soon enough, he found himself patting it on the head with affection as he passed. And it’s not like the addition of a bear made cuddling with Enjolras while reading any less comfortable.)

This is not to say Enjolras was not fonder of Granbear than he would care to admit. After attending an ABC Society meeting and seeing Grantaire wearing a plaid shirt that was unnervingly similar to Granbear’s, he couldn’t help but notice that he cuddled with the black bear more and more. Sometimes he would even interrogate it. Well, not interrogate, but merely exasperatedly express his frustrations with some of Grantaire’s earlier incendiary remarks to his ursine equivalent. Which was totally reasonable and not at all strange.

Inevitably, however, he would just end up sighing, giving the bear a peck on the forehead (it was almost an instinct with these bears, Enjolras swore, when Courfeyrac gave him a knowing smirk after catching him doing it one evening), and hugging it closer as he burrowed into the couch as he read some article or typed some paper.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac accepted these habits without judgment (though not without a little self-satisfaction on Courfeyrac’s part), but none of the other members of the ABC Society were aware of the bears’ existence and Enjolras was more than content to keep it that way.

But of course, the one person to discover Enjolras’ furry friends would be none other than one of the inspirations for them.

Enjolras had been absorbed in the conclusion of his political science class final paper, laptop precariously perched and Granbear smiling on encouragingly from his lap when the doorbell rang and Courfeyrac, yelling, “Got it!” bounded to the door and opened it.

“Combeferre said I could just drop off these posters whenever I got the chance? And I was in the neighborhood, so...” Enjolras blanched at the sound of the voice. Of all people, Grantaire? But Enjolras’ back was to the door and maybe he wouldn’t come in, maybe he wouldn’t see--

“Ahh, okay, gotcha! Come on in, Grantaire!”

Enjolras was going to kill Courfeyrac, even if he did make fantastic teddy bears.

He heard shuffling and the door closing behind him and went to try and concentrate back on his paper. Maybe if he was working, they wouldn’t look at him, they would leave him alone...

“Is that a teddy bear?” Grantaire said, cardboard tucked under his arm and his free hand pointing directly at Granbear. Sometimes Enjolras forgot how observant the man could be.

“No. Why would you say that?” Enjolras replied nonchalantly.

Grantaire laughed. “Okay, so that is a teddy bear. You can’t pull that one over on me, sunshine.” He squinted. “...Is it wearing my shirt?”

Enjolras felt his face flush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You have a bear modeled after me? That you just sit here...writing revolutionary words with?”

Enjolras said nothing, for once at a lack for what to say.

“That’s Granbear!” Courfeyrac chimed in, and yes, Enjolras was going to kill him. Build-a-Bear would just have to find another employee to fill his place.

Grantaire’s face flushed and he floundered for a bit. “Well, I hope he keeps you in line. Can’t let your idealist goals stray too far from reality. But I’m going to just, um, go then. You have your posters and all that,” he said, now not making eye contact with either Courfeyrac or Enjolras. “I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

As the door closed behind Grantaire, Enjolras whipped his head around and glared at Courfeyrac.

“And you got Combeferre in on this too??”

“You’ll thank me later!” Courfeyrac skipped off into his room before Enjolras could say anything further.

Enjolras pouted for a bit, and by the time Combeferre ventured over to see how he was doing, without realizing it, Enjolras had only managed to abandon his paper and hug Granbear closer.

“Don’t say anything,” he mumbled into the bear’s fur. Combeferre merely walked away with a knowing smile.

(Much to Courfeyrac’s delight, a few weeks later, Enjolras would find that Grantaire was just as cuddleable as Granbear.)