Work Text:
“Courfeyrac, have you seen my glasses?”
He barely has time to move around, before an insistent hand pulls him back in said mentioned man’s lap.
“Ah, no,” Courfeyrac mumbles, pressing him closer and kissing the back of his neck. Combeferre sighs, and squints, which doesn’t help, their flat still coming out blurry.
Like, really blurry. Tears-in-your-eyes, sudden-mist-has-descended, we’re-at-the-bottom-of-a-salty-ocean blurred.
All at once.
He can’t see anything.
“I really need to find my glasses,” he mutters, as Courfeyrac keeps trailing kisses, across his shoulders and continuing up and down his neck. It’s very distracting.
“Hmmm,” Courfeyrac purrs as his only response. Really.
Purrs.
Combeferre didn’t know he had signed up to dating a great big cat before it was already too late.
“Courfeyrac, really,” he insists, and his breath does not hitch at the sensation of his boyfriend’s hot mouth settling on his skin, oh no, not at all, he is calm and composed, if slightly exasperated because he is currently almost as blind as a bat, and really, he will never find his glasses unless Courfeyrac, the only person in this flat with functioning eyesight at the moment, deigns to help him.
“Really,” Courfeyrac mutters, and twists until he can kiss Combeferre on the cheek: he lingers there, for a moment, arms folding around his chest, pressing him backwards and even closer, and Courfeyrac,
“That is really distracting,” he bites out, but fails to sound as annoyed as he truly is, because, well, okay, because it isn’t really that annoying, is it, your boyfriend snuggling and kissing up to you, long fingers running up and down his arm, strands of his hair tickling slightly as he keeps moving to kiss Combeferre’s face, reaching more and more and laughing playfully and…
“GLASSES!” Combeferre shouts, and Courfeyrac starts in shock, loosening his grip on him.
“Wha…”
“My glasses!” he wants to hiss, but it comes out more as a mournful sob.
He needs his glasses, damn it!
“Aw, darling,” Courfeyrac pulls him around so that Combeferre is straddling him instead, and really, Combeferre can’t do anything but go along with it, because if he tries to get up he’s going to walk into several pieces of furniture and at least two walls and he doesn’t want another nose-bleed like the last time that had happened, nor does he want Courfeyrac all worried (like last time as well), and he most especially does not want Courfeyrac to coddle him like a great big, mother-hen, that is his job thank-you very much, and he’d been the one in pain, but Courfeyrac had been the one on the verge of tears, because apparently seeing Combeferre bleed was a little too much for him to handle.
So he sighs and lets himself be pulled into another kiss, eyes slipping closed: he definitely doesn’t need his glasses for this. Nope, doesn’t need them at all, to enjoy how soft Courfeyrac’s lips always are, how warm he is, especially his hand currently slipping under his shirt and moving over his skin, and did someone just moan, it might have been him and…
“I’m late for work!” he gets out, possibly in an embarrassing gasp, pulling away. Courfeyrac pouts – he can’t see it, but he can hear it.
It sounds like rainbows melting and puppies being kicked.
“You could just call in sick.”
“My glasses’ missing is not the same as being sick, Courfeyrac.”
“But you’ve been blinded! A horrible, terrible accident, in where you lost your sight – or, to be precise, your glasses.”
“Courfeyrac…”
“It is a tragedy. Surely they’ll let you off.”
“I need to find them, and then I can go to work, do you see my logic?”
“Or,” Courfeyrac interrupts, sounding like an eager little kitten. “Or you could not go look for them, and stay here. With me.”
“Courfeyrac…”
“Combeferre,” Courfeyrac sighs, like he’s impatient and a lovesick puppy-dog all at the same time. “Oh, Combeferre.”
“No, don’t…”
“I love you so.”
“Please stop.”
“You are the brightest sunshine in my life.”
“Courfeyrac, I swear…”
“And when you blush, like right now for example…”
“I am not blushing!”
“Both my heart and certain other places throb like…”
“COURFEYRAC!”
Said man burst out laughing, hiding his face in Combeferre’s chest, the latter sighing in exasperation.
“Really,” he mumbles, reaching up to card his fingers through the thick brown curls that always made Courfeyrac purr like it was a matter of his own life when so played with, when his fingers bumped into something.
“Are those my glasses? On your head?? Did you have them the whole time??!”
Courfeyrac pulled back with a start, though not before Combeferre had managed to save his spectacles from the wilderness atop his head.
“It was for love! I did it out of love Combeferre!”
“You absolute bastard!” he puts his glasses back on (finally!) in order to properly glare at his boyfriend.
“Love, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac repeats gravely.
“Oh, shut up,” he mumbles, pulling him back in for another kiss.
Work can wait for a little while longer. He’s found his glasses now, after all.