This somehow ended up from Enjolras’ POV, but all the snuggling is between Feuilly and Jehan, so hopefully that’s OK. ^_^ Thanks for your patience! ^_^
Running a club focused on bringing about the betterment of society was often a thankless job made up of a multitude of smaller thankless jobs, and this was a fact of which Enjolras was well aware. He’d started the Alpha-Beta-Kappa Society with two like-minded and willing individuals almost five years ago, now, and it was thriving, its membership growing robust and numerous compared to its small start. He, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had stayed involved, even once they’d moved on to graduate school, happy to keep a hand in whenever they were asked. There were, however, certain benefits to having achieved emeritus status from the board; it meant that the truly thankless and mind-numbing tasks could fall to younger hands. Collating and stuffing orientation packets, for example, had been the particular bane of Enjolras’ existence in the beginning. He didn’t have patience for it and he never finished the process with fewer than three paper cuts. So, when two of the new freshmen had volunteered to take up the task, Enjolras had been more than happy to pass it over.
Looking down on the two new recruits, now, Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. Jehan had tipped over sideways, one foot dangling towards the floor, the other kicked up to rest on the bench. One arm was thrown over his head, the other trailing along the floor, his last batch of papers spilling from lax fingers. Jehan’s head was burrowed behind his partner in collation, pressed between Feuilly’s back and the back of the bench. Feuilly was equally unresponsive, though he was less sprawled in his repose. Arms crossed over his chest, his cap pulled down over his face, and his feet crossed at the ankles, he was the most contained accidental napper that Enjolras had ever seen.
Enjolras reached out to gather the papers from Jehan’s hand, as well as the few which had fallen from the piles on the tables. Even that small noise, however, was enough to wake Feuilly. His hand rose to rub at slowly blinking eyes, a soft whine emerging from his lips in protest at his awakening. The noise and the jostling woke Jehan behind him, nearly resulting in this both ending up on the floor as sleep-deadened limbs fought with startled senses to attempt movement far too soon.
Moments later, two pairs of red-rimmed eyes turned to face Enjolras, each with an accusation in one sleepy eye and mounting horror and embarrassment in the other. Before either could speak, Enjolras shook his head and smiled. “You two look about done in.” Nodding towards the other side of the room, he said, “That couch has seen to the needs of more than a few willing minds with unwilling bodies. I promise you, it’s been well broken-in for comfort and can easily accommodate two—three if you’re willing to be overly friendly. Why don’t you two get some rest while I finish up, then I’ll drive you both home.”
It didn’t take much convincing to get Feuilly and Jehan relocated to the couch, and Enjolras was almost positive that at least one of them was asleep before their bodies hit the pillows. They settled into a tangle of limbs that Enjolras well recognized, having spent his fair share of time tangled on that couch with either Courfeyrac or Combeferre—and sometimes Courfeyrac *and* Combeferre—and he smiled to see it.
Forty-five minutes of mind-numbing collating later, Enjolras finally stuffed the last of the packets and put it atop the pile. He turned back towards the couch with every intention of waking Feuilly and Jehan and getting them home… but froze, unable to make a single move that might disturb the tableau. Jehan had ended up on the outside edge, facing the back of the couch with Feuilly tucked into the curve of his body. Their legs had tangled together and both looked comfortable and content. Enjolras was loathe to move either of them… so he didn’t.
Enjolras went into the closet and retrieved the afghan that Bahorel had made for literally this exact reason—during his last year of undergraduate school, Enjolras had slept on this couch more often than he’d slept in his own bed—and draped it over Feuilly and Jehan. And then it was all he could do not to actually squeak when they responded by snuggling further into it and each other. He could almost hear Courfeyrac’s voice in his ear, filled with fond exasperation, calling him the world’s biggest sap. Maybe he was. And where was the harm in that, anyway?
Turning off the overhead lights, Enjolras settled in at his desk and powered up his computer. He’d just stick around and get a little work done while Feuilly and Jehan rested. After all, what would be the point of being an emeritus member if you couldn’t look after and help out those who were stepping in to fill your shoes? No point at all.