Work Text:
Joly was due for a haircut, she thought, toying with a light-brown strand that curled under his ear. The young doctor didn’t even stir, the pain meds made him so drowsy, and Chetta’s fingers continued to thread carefully through his soft locks, her nose brushing the overgrown curls at the top of his head.
Musichetta couldn’t feel her left arm, crushed under his weight, but it didn’t matter, Joly had finally managed to drift off a couple hours before, pressed between her body and the backrest of the sofa in a way that relieved the pressure on his leg, she wasn’t about to move now that he was comfortable. Most days Joly could manage the schedule of appointments without issue but whenever something happened that set off the pain in his leg he’d be down for a couple of days at least.
It was lucky for them that Chetta was able to work from home and double as a body pillow when needed but right now, just out of her nap, she’d rather trace his eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, watching the sheen of his eyelids and the funny way his cheek was smashed against her chest, admiring the beauty mark under the left eye and the other one near his rosy, delicate lips which were now crooked in a way that made her smile.
He was so handsome it kind of hurt a little.
Making her hand feather-light, Chetta felt his forehead to make sure he wasn’t overheating under the covers. He wasn’t. A soft click coming from the kitchen made her look up in time to see Boss coming in with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He was home early, was it a dream?
“Hey.” He mouthed with a smile.
“Hi.” Chetta carefully watched the approach of their disaster-prone boyfriend, but Bossuet was the most careful man in the world when it came to Joly, squatting down with the grace of a ballet dancer and bringing the drink to her lips.
“You alright, princess?”
“Yeah.” She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the nickname even after all those years. Bossuet knew exactly how to make her feel like a teenager in love for the first time. “How was your day?”
“Not terrible.” He flashed a crooked smile that made her want to giggle. “I was fired, but then I came home and you’re here, so it was actually pretty good.”
Her smile fell and when Musichetta reached out to cup his cheek Bossuet kissed her palm.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
He looked up at her, leaning into the touch.
“Don’t worry, Grantaire knows someone who may want me. Hi there, doc, are we alive?”
Chetta’s attention was redirected to Joly carefully opening one eye, his hand tightening on her sweater.
“Hm.” Joly confirmed.
“Good.” Bossuet’s smile returned and he pressed a kiss to their boyfriend’s forehead before doing the same to Musichetta. “Italian, princess?”
She turned to Bossuet once again.
“Sure. Jolllly?”
“Hm.” He agreed sleepily.
It was a relief that Joly allowed the two of them to take care of him, maybe Bossuet could take a page from his book — Musichetta knew she should, anyway —, she wanted Boss to know he didn’t have to pretend nothing ever got to him, at least not around them.
“I’m getting us door dash then.” He stood up, leaving the drink on the coffee table.
“That sucks.” Joly mumbled, lifting his head, face printed with the pattern of Chetta’s sweater.
“Tony’s?” Bossuet frowned. “You like Tony’s.”
“That you were fired.”
Bossuet put on his signature crooked smile.
“Don’t worry, doc.”
“I’m not worried, but it sucks. It’s allowed to suck, darling.”
Bossuet’s expression faltered for a second and Chetta took the opportunity to take his hand.
“We love you when life sucks too.”
Boss squeezed her hand, thanking each of them with a kiss. Life sucked sometimes, it was true, but it was always better with them, Musichetta felt like they could overcome anything together, like she wanted to. Life was worth fighting for to be together.
Even on the bad days.