(no subject)

Combeferre has seen little of his friends lately - less, he knows, than he should, as more than one exclamation-filled text from Courfeyrac has reminded him. Despite that, most have responded to his suddenly overfull schedule with only gentle entreaties. Combeferre certainly had not expected that Grantaire would be the one to put his foot down and demand he spend a day away from school, and home, and the overwhelming tasks of unexpected fatherhood. But the man had insisted with surprising kindness, and when Combeferre had mentioned it to Sybil, she had insisted, and that is how he ended up standing on Grantaire’s doorstep on a Saturday night, thoughts still lingering on the stacks of books that sit at home, waiting impatiently for his return.

He isn’t entirely sure what to expect from a night with Grantaire. The man has mellowed a little in his time away from Paris, but God only know what he might have planned. With a rueful shake of his head, Combeferre knocks. It’s too late to change his mind now.