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“I need your ID number.”
Without breaking his concentration, Combeferre reached into his pocket and took out his student ID, handing it over to his roommate. All he got in return was a grunt and quick footsteps back to the computer directly to his left. A few keys and just like that, the printer was whirring alive.
“How much was that?” Combeferre spoke up, stamping another book before putting it back on the shelf behind him.
“Five.”
“...Five what?”
“... Five. ”
Combeferre sighed and shook his head, though a smile crept onto his face. He stepped out from behind the librarian counter, patted Enjolras on the shoulder before heading towards a cart for displaced books.
A30432-WS1…
He wrote each book ID sequence on some index cards before setting them back on the shelves. He hummed gently to himself, making a mental game of reshelving as he searched the numbers along the spines of the hundreds and hundreds of books before him. He liked to try and guess who may’ve been the one to pull out a specific kind of book-- Why would the university library even carry a book on how to Bombproof Your Horse? Who needed that information?
Well… maybe he did? In case he needed to bombproof his horse… That he definitely owned. He crouched for a moment, cracking open the book and starting to flip through the pages.
"Are you working?"
He snapped the book closed, looking up in bewilderment. He scrambled to his feet and shoved the horse book back onto the shelf.
"Yes, I am, the librarian is out sick so it's just me today," He managed to string together before taking in a deep breath through his nose. He let it out and turned to the owner of the voice, finding a curly haired green bean- the baby kind- clutching his phone for dear life.
"I need to check out a book for class," He said.
"Oh! Okay, sure, let me just…" Combeferre started back towards the desk, choosing to side step awkwardly when the man didn't move out of his way. He ignored the way Enjolras was staring at him from his position by the printer and focused on the reserve section of books. "Er-- what course is this?"
"Anthropology for third years, I'm Courfeyrac, student ID 38--"
Combeferre stopped for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at the bean and awkwardly cut in.
"We… didn't have homework this week."
There was a moment of silence before panic raced through his chest.
"Right?"
"You were gone last week," Courfeyrac said, recognition hitting his eyes, "We have an essay draft due."
"That wasn't on the syllabus!" Combeferre immediately started signing into the canvas website, desperately searching for an answer.
"She changed her mind."
"Isn't that class in like 45 minutes?" Enjolras spoke up.
"It sure is and I need an outline at the very least if I'm going to be spared," Courfeyrac put down his student ID, "Please, help me survive literally just the rest of the day."
Combeferre scanned the book and ID, quickly coming out from behind the counter and walking to a table, letting Courfeyrac follow at his heels.
"Hey, that's- I checked it out!"
"I need it, too," Combeferre said simply, "And I've seen your outlines, they're… quite creative."
"What, you're going to use the next 43 minutes to tutor me in anthropology ?"
"You… are saving my ass, so I'm saving yours. Sit down."
So he sat. Apprehensively, as if he wanted to keep some dignity, but he sat. Together they skimmed the book and within 40 of their 43 minutes, they put together two different outlines that seemed different enough that maybe the teacher wouldn’t notice they were definitely both (mostly) put together by Combeferre.
Combeferre’s hands were covered in ink from how fast he wrote and he looked out of breath as he looked between the two pages. But he smiled. He felt a rush of accomplishment, the same rush that was getting him through this hell school, and stood.
“Enj, check this back in, we have to get to class,” He said, pulling on his book bag.
“I’m not a librar-- okay,” The blond awkwardly caught the book thrown his way and tried his damnedest to figure out the system as the two men disappeared into the hallway, heading for class.
I don’t have a horse, but I do have an Enjolras… “Accepts many new situations without concern; possibly has a few known issues…” I’d give him a two, yeah.
Combeferre sat on a stool behind the librarian counter once again, this time with Bombproof Your Horse by Rick Pelicano sitting open in front of him and no roommate in sight. He read through the horse assessment quiz, assigning each characteristic to Enjolras, as he, in fact, did not have a horse.
Suddenly, the bell on the counter started ringing. Over and over. Frantically.
“If you need assistance-” He grimaced, looking up to find the culprit was… the green bean from his class.
“I do need assistance,” He said. He came over to stand in front of Combeferre, “I need help with this essay.”
“We have a writing center just next door,” Combeferre furrowed his brow.
“I’ve gone in there too much,” Courfeyrac just shook his head, “I can’t let them see me again. I think one of them thinks I’m stupid.”
“Well, I doubt you’re stupid, ” He closed his book, making sure to place a bookmark in it, and gave his full attention to the man.
“No, yeah, I mean, I’m not,” He fidgeted, “I know I’m not. I just have, like, really bad ADHD and sometimes opening the book is really hard and then sometimes opening my student drive is even harder and it’s just, it’s a bad time.”
“And you’re asking me…?”
“I understood the process you went through,” He said, “With the outline, like I got it and I followed it. I want… that, whatever that was. I want your process.”
Combeferre just stared at him, blinking. He had never really thought himself to be a tutor or a master at essays or anything of the sort. He just liked books. Still… The kid was nice enough.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” He finally said, “But I’m going to be stuck here at this desk until like five.”
“I can come back, no problem,” Courfeyrac said quickly, “Or we can meet somewhere. You could come over? I won’t kill you, I promise.”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“I can make lasagna,” He added in. He grinned when Combeferre laughed, finally.
“Okay, yes, we can do that,” He huffed out another laugh, grabbing an index card from his stack and writing down his phone number. He handed it over, “I’m trusting you not to kill me.”
“You will be so safe, I promise I just need this grade,” Courfeyrac grabbed Combeferre’s hand with both of us, delight coursing through his veins. He took the card as he pulled his hands away, “I’m going to go get lasagna ingredients!”
Combeferre watched as he half-ran-half-skipped out of the library and felt… warm.
It wasn’t what he expected, but he also didn’t know quite what he was expecting. It was just a townhouse, slotted between two identical townhouses, with a large B on the mailbox. It was painted a nice blue color and from the outside, it looked completely normal and inviting, but upon closer inspection there was a doormat that read Hold On. We’re probably not wearing pants.
His hand had barely brushed the door before it was opening to a beaming face.
“You found it!” Courfeyrac grinned.
“I sure did,” Combeferre couldn’t help but smile back.
“My roommate’s here, but he’s cool,” He said, ushering the other man inside. He practically tumbled up the stairs, talking the whole time, “I didn’t know if you drank, but you strike me as a red wine kind of guy so I picked up some wine because it’s really cool that you’re helping me out and I know that I like wine when I’m trying to write essays but I like white wine so I got both.”
“I mean, I--”
“I also didn’t know if you were vegetarian or not so I just didn’t risk it so there’s no meat but there’s like a ton of cheese and spinach, I hope that’s okay,” He went over to the oven, peeking inside of it.
“That’s totally fine,” Combeferre finally got a word in. He looked around the room, finding virtually no divide between the kitchen and the living room. He carefully went to take his place on the couch. “Who’s your roommate?”
“What?”
“Your roommate.”
“Oh, his name is Marius.”
At the name, Combeferre couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He had had Marius in his philosophy class the previous semester and, well, he hated to say it, but Marius sure was… a straight white guy. He didn’t really have the energy every Monday and Wednesday to explain why what Marius said was tone deaf despite his heart being the right place, but he sure did it anyway because nobody else seemed to want to.
“Here you go,” Courfeyrac broke into his thoughts, handing him a wine glass. He sat next to him, feet tucked underneath his body, “I swear I’m not seducing you.”
“Oh, you’re not?” Combeferre joked, “I was looking forward to it, it’s been a long time.”
“Aw,” He said with a frown, “Really?”
“No- well, yes, it’s been a long time, but I wasn’t like, anticipating being seduced,” He clarified, “I’m here to help you write an essay.” He shifted uneasily under the strange empathy he was getting from Courfeyrac’s expression, “Anyway, I brought the book we get most of our resources from.”
“I thought it couldn’t leave the library,” He took a sip of his own wine, finally no longer giving Combeferre that look.
“It can when you work there,” He said simply. He grabbed his laptop and the book in question out of his bag as Courfeyrac suddenly stood and went to fetch the promised lasagna.
The two worked for hours, often getting sidetracked into different conversations and storytelling before getting right back onto the paper. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Marius emerged from his room and they all had an awkward exchange until he left the house and before he knew it, Combeferre was on his second glass and third dish.
“So, I’ve been reading this book in our library called Bombproof Your Horse, ” He said, essay all but forgotten.
“I love that book!” Courfeyrac laughed, “I don’t have a horse so I did the assessment based on Marius.”
“That’s what I’m doing with Enjolras!” Combeferre reached out, placing a hand on Courfeyrac’s leg as he laughed loudly, “Why do we have that book?”
“We have a lot of weird books, I’ve read a lot of them,” He placed his hand over Combeferre’s, taking another drink of his, what, third glass? Who was even keeping track at this point?
“Oh, but anthropology is too much,” He raised an eyebrow, smile still on his face.
“See, the secret to ADHD is to find something that’s out of the ordinary and then I’m all in,” He explained.
“Of course,” He squeezed his leg before removing his hand and finishing off his second glass. A few beats of a comfortable silence passed as they both settled into the couch deeper than before.
“Okay, I have to ask,” Courfeyrac spoke up, “Why haven’t you been seduced recently?”
For a moment, Combeferre wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. But he had had two glasses of wine, and this blanket he had been offered was so warm, and Courfeyrac was so kind, and he looked like that so it’s not like he was being forced to talk intimately with him.
“I just don’t have time,” He shrugged, “Or the energy. I think my last seduction was freshman year of college and it was just… weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird like a senior was the guy who did it,” He cringed a second, remembering the man in question, “He wasn’t even that cute, and I definitely wasn’t that type of guy but… I don’t know, it was freshman year in a new city and I was excited that someone thought I was exciting.”
“How long did that last?” Courfeyrac gently tilted his head.
“Longer than I’d care to admit,” He laughed, “It must’ve been… at least four months. I just kept answering his phone calls and finally Enjolras had to cut me off.”
“I’m sorry,” He frowned.
“It’s fine, I just… know better now.”
“And you haven’t had any seduction?” He pried, “Like, no one has even tried?”
“No one can really try if I don’t make myself available,” He once again shifted uneasily. “Okay, now your turn. When were you last seduced?”
“Last Spring,” He answered smoothly, “It was on a spring break trip with my friends and I almost hooked up with the AirBnB owner’s son.”
“Almost?”
“Er-- yeah, he, uh, we… weren’t… compatible,” He awkwardly downed the rest of his wine.
“You weren’t…” Combeferre studied him closely before he grinned like a child, trying desperately to contain his laughter, “You’re a bottom, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say bottom, ” Courfeyrac answered loudly, “I would just say that perhaps I don’t often like to… Give.”
“That’s a bottom, Courf,” He laughed this time, “You couldn’t hook up with the guy because you were both bottoms? You couldn’t even just… exchange a handy?”
“We were talking about you, I don’t know how we got onto this topic,” He stood, bringing his glass back to the kitchen, but Combeferre trailed after him.
“Are you embarrassed that you’re a bottom?” He asked.
“ Wow, that sure is something I haven’t been asked in years,” He started to rinse out his glass, “And I’m definitely not, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“No judgements here,” Combeferre held up his hands, “I believe you. You are a strong, independent bottom.” He couldn’t help the cheeky grin that came through when Courfeyrac finally looked at him again.
“But I was right then,” Courfeyrac said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.
“Oh? About what?” He asked, stepping directly in front of him.
“You’re a top,” He said simply.
“How can you be so sure?”
“What, do I have to test it?”
There was a beat. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of them both and they just stared, trying to get a grasp on some air. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been 30 seconds, but finally Combeferre moved and he kissed Courfeyrac, a little harder than he meant to, but the man didn’t seem to have any issues with it. Without much hesitation, they found themselves moving up the stairs.
Enj: Where are you?
Enj: I heard something. The raccoons might be back.
Combeferre woke up suddenly as his phone buzzed repeatedly. He searched for it blindly, finally grabbing hold of it and pulling it close to his face.
Ferre: Sorry, I ended up staying over with Courfeyrac and Marius.
Enj: Marius from your philosophy class?
Ferre: Guess they’re roommates. Who knew?
He closed his eyes, setting the phone down and letting his headache pulse for a minute as he put together the night before. All at once, his face flushed and he took a glance beside him…
There was Courfeyrac, head buried in a pillow. His curls stuck straight out, every which way, and his face was so peaceful Combeferre wasn’t sure for a moment it was the same man he had been drinking wine with. He was so soft and gentle, and the further down Combeferre’s eyes went, the more exposed skin he could find… with little marks cascading across his collarbone.
Just like that, the image broke as Courfeyrac’s eyes opened and the same energy he always had returned. Not in his body, but certainly in his face. He gaped at Combeferre, for so long and with such an unreadable expression that he nearly apologized before suddenly words were tumbling out of the man’s mouth.
“I think I love you.”
Combeferre blinked.
“Oh… okay,” He slowly nodded, “Okay.” His chest flushed with warmth and he hated to say it but he didn’t… hate the declaration. So, he said nothing, and just pulled Courfeyrac in closer and buried his hand into his messy bedhead.
I think I love you, too.
Somehow… there was an agreement and neither of them had to verbalize it.