“scratch that. don’t answer that.” (and did you want a pairing too? bc I’d love to see what you do with Courfeyrac and Enjolras.)

bootsselbst:

Open
your baskets!  The ingredients you must use in your dish are…

Enjolras
sets the remote control on the coffee table, next to an empty pint of
Ben & Jerry’s and two spoons resting on the upturned ice cream
lid.  Chopped is a show that they can both agree on; Enjolras likes
to learn new tricks he can use in the kitchen (he really is
getting better at cooking
, he insists as Courfeyrac teases him),
while Courfeyrac enjoys most any kind of reality competition show.

The
two of them had been sitting together on the couch, with Courfeyrac’s
head on Enjolras’s shoulder.  When Enjolras sits back again after
setting down the remote, Courfeyrac leans against him and rests his
head where it had been before, snuggling close to him.  Enjolras’s
hand comes to rest on top of Courfeyrac’s, and he rubs his thumb
gently against the back of his friend’s hand.

After
a moment, Courfeyrac lifts his head.  Enjolras looks over at him,
curious, and the look on Courfeyrac’s face is not one he recognizes.
Courfeyrac takes a deep breath.

“Enjolras.”
Another breath.  “Um.”

“Yes?”
Enjolras is even more curious now.  Courfeyrac’s tone of voice
doesn’t worry him, exactly, but it makes him feel uncertain.

The
next few words sound as cautious as Enjolras feels.  “What are we?”

Enjolras
definitely looks confused.  But Courfeyrac barely gives him time to
think before backpedalling.  “Scratch that.  Don’t answer that.
I’m sorry.”  His hand stiffens under Enjolras’s, and he looks down
at it, then back up at Enjolras, as if to ask if this was still okay.

Enjolras
smiles that gentle smile of his, the one that warms something in
Courfeyrac’s chest, and squeezes his hand.  “It’s all right.”  

Courfeyrac
shakes his head.  “No, I’m sorry.  It’s just I’ve never done
anything like this before.  I don’t really do the romance thing, and
I know you’ve said you don’t either, but it’s—.”

Enjolras
leans in quickly to kiss Courfeyrac on the cheek.  It works as he
intended, and Courfeyrac cuts himself off mid-sentence.  “It’s
really all right.  Honestly, I don’t have a word for this either.
But… that’s fine, yeah?”

Courfeyrac’s
eyebrows flash up for a brief moment, then sighs with relief.  “Yeah.
Yeah, that’s fine.”

Enjolras
nestles back into the couch and pats his shoulder.  “Come on, the
judging’s about to start.”

Courfeyrac
laughs and flops back down, his head finding Enjolras’s shoulder as
his hand reaches for his friend’s hand.

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