Chapter Text
The firepit was a housewarming gift from Bossuet, who handed it off to them with a cheeky card warning them not to burn their new house down, but they have not had time to make use of it yet; the demands of medical school and their nascent political activist group have made it virtually impossible for Combeferre and Joly to spend time together anywhere other than the bedroom, where they reunite each evening in more ways than one.
But on a clear, fall Saturday evening, there is a hunter’s moon, and they are both at home and awake at the same time, so Combeferre proposes they make use of their gift and build a fire outside; Joly is hesitant at first, knowing how smoke has this unfortunate tendency to make his eyes water, but he can never resist Combeferre, knowing that his boyfriend will draw on his endless bank of experience to identify the perfect kind of wood and stack it just so in order to make the perfect fire.
So Joly relaxes and lies back on their chaise lounge to watch Combeferre make fire, his lips forming a slight smile as he watches Combeferre’s face, intent on his task and illuminated by in the warm light of the fire; when Combeferre finishes his task to his satisfaction and rises to his feet, brushing his hands on his jeans, Joly silently extends a hand to him, beckoning him to join him, and Combeferre agrees quickly, unable to resist the siren call of Joly for long — and together they watch the fire crackle and hiss, their long limbs entwined as they bathe in the warmth both of their gift and of each other.