A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own any of Victor Hugo's characters. This is written for pure amusement.

I am honestly surprised that there has been little fanfiction detailing this kind of consequence. You'd think that at the rate Courfeyrac gets around, this would happen at least once.

Acquaintance With Responsibility

May 12, 1831

It was not usual for Enjolras to be among the first to arrive at the back room of the Café Musain. Normally after he got out of class, he would meet with one or two other people of a certain importance in the Latin Quartier, or engage in hushed discussion among some of his fellow law students, before heading off to the now frequent meetings of Les Amis del'ABC. On this particular dusk though, he skipped one part of this routine in order to gain just a little time for looking over his notes in hopes of being in a good position to sit his upcoming bar exam.

He had been alone for about a quarter of an hour when he heard someone knock thrice on the door that opened on the Rue de Gres. "Come in," he said.

He looked up momentarily as Courfeyrac rushed in, barely remembering to close the door behind him. "Enjolras? Did you get out of class early?" the younger student greeted distractedly.

"No. I just had to do a little studying," Enjolras replied, gesturing calmly to his notes. "Where have you come from?"

"Not very far," Courfeyrac replied as he straightened out his lapels. He ran a hand through his slightly mussed up curls and sat down heavily in one of the chairs and brought out a book of his own and opened it to a random page. "Where's Combeferre?" he asked after a few moments.

"He said he'd be a little late, since he's helping in a free clinic today," Enjolras said. "I think Joly is with him too."

"Oh," Courfeyrac mumbled. "What about Bossuet?"

"That I'm not sure," Enjolras said. "He'll be here within the hour, probably."

"What about Jehan and Bahorel?"

"Last I heard, they were meeting some of Bahorel's other friends at the Rue Saint Dominique."

Courfeyrac sighed deeply. "Feuilly's still at work. Dare I ask where Grantaire is?"

"Probably off playing billiards someplace else," Enjolras replied diffidently. For a moment, he watched Courfeyrac flipping through the pages of his book before clearing his throat. "Is there a problem?" he asked concernedly.

"Oh, no, nothing," Courfeyrac replied quickly, though the rather agonized look still lingered on his face. "Nothing to be worried about."

Enjolras snorted. "You've been doing some work at pretending to be reading," he pointed out. It was clear from his friend's agitated state that there was clearly some pressing matter on his mind. "And knowing Courfeyrac, it could be anything from an argument with his mistress to the police trailing him someplace," he thought.

Courfeyrac let out another more frustrated sigh before looking Enjolras in the face. "You wouldn't understand. It's not as if you have ever done anything to get in this situation," he said before burying his face in his hands.

"Haven't done anything?" Enjolras asked quizzically.

"Had a mistress," Courfeyrac muttered before giving Enjolras a withering look.

Enjolras nodded with visible relief. "I am quite sure that you will have little difficulty remedying that sort of trouble, considering your expertise," he deadpanned. At least it wasn't something that seemed to pose a clear and present danger for the ever-nearing revolution.

Courfeyrac shook his head. "It's not that sort of difficulty. I don't even know how---fine, I do know how it could have happened, but it's never happened to me in all the years I've been in Paris!" he exclaimed.

The blond law student took a deep breath before putting a hand on Courferyac's shoulder. "Is this something I want to know?"

Courfeyrac looked down and shrugged. "For one thing, I'm pretty sure you don't know Paulette. She's a nice girl, yes, with brown hair as you've never seen, and a pretty tilt to her chin. And such dimples. Well we met some weeks back, and things went as per one of the natural courses…."

Enjolras bit his lip as several rather unsavory scenarios came to mind. "And?" he asked tentatively.

"She's going to have a child. And she says I'm the father."