Early January

[jaimemieux]

The snow still stands in high drifts when Combeferre makes his way through it towards home. The city has done its best to clear what paths they can, but lazy merchants and forgotten corners have left enough icy patches upon the pavement that one must walk with careful step. Combeferre should be weary from his days of making do in the stranded hotel - deep down he is - and he should be cold from the slushing snow - he must be, if he stops to think about - but neither tiredness nor weather trouble him today. In plenty of ways, his week with Sybil has not been what he planned for, but in the way that mattered most, it had been precisely right.

Leaving Sybil at her own apartment, he walks through snowdrifts to his building with a light and cheerful step despite what should be a miserable trek. When he arrives, he is glad to see his flat alight. Prouvaire will need to know that he has returned - and should be told his other news as well.

“Jehan? I’ve made it back."

Comments

[petit_poete]

It had been a stressful few days, fretting about the safety of his friends trapped in the snowbound Kagura, and Combeferre's voice was more welcome than Jehan could express. He'd been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee as he picked at a bit of bread and cheese and read, but his book and food were abandoned the moment the knob turned. "Oh, Dieu, I'm so glad to see you!" he cried, rising to his feet and crossing the room to embrace his friend firmly. "Are you well? And Courfeyrac? And Sybil?"

[jaimemieux]

“Yes, yes, we are all well,” Combeferre assures Jehan quickly, giving him a quick, tight hug. “We spent a crowded few days in each other’s company, is all. It was, I fear, not quite the holiday I promised Sybil, but I believe she forgives me.” He allows himself a secret smile. Combeferre has told no one of his plans, and now he has much to share.

“But I have something to tell you."

[petit_poete]

"Oh?" Having reassured himself that his friend is well, Jehan stepped back, expression curious. "In that case, you will find me a rapt listener, my friend. Come and join me and tell away." He gestured back towards the kitchen table, moving to retake his seat there.

[jaimemieux]

Combeferre follows his friend and sits at the table, where he adjusts his spectacles and clasps his hands together. Between the planning, his nerves, and the mild-if-ridiculous disaster of being trapped, he has gotten little sleep these last few days, and his body craves rest. Nevertheless, he knows he will not be able to under Prouvaire has heard the news that will change his life (and in some ways, Jehan’s own life) forever.

“Well-“ he laughs a little, “I had initially planned to give Sybil…a little more than a holiday. I had hoped that the time alone, the atmosphere, the sundry little luxuries, might provide me the perfect opportunity to ask her—I mean, to give her—to offer her a ring."

[petit_poete]

Jehan sat up straight at that news. "Combeferre, why did you not tell me?" he asked, somewhat aghast. Oh, he would have dearly loved to help his friend plan the perfect proposal--even if it seemed it was doomed to go awry, at this point.

[jaimemieux]

“Because if I had, you would have cooked up something far beyond my ability to execute,” Combeferre says with a fond lift of his brow. More than once he had thought about telling his dear friend about his plans, but he only had to imagine the whirlwind that Jehan would surely create trying to concoct the perfect proposal. “I wanted something simple. And I got it, albeit in not quite the way I was expecting."

[petit_poete]

Jehan wanted to protest, but they both knew any argument he could offer would be weak at best and outright false at worst, so he just sighed and nodded. "Well, then, tell me all about it," he said with a small grin.

[jaimemieux]

“Ah well,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you believe, she found the ring before I even had a chance? The weather knocked my plans awry, as you can imagine. We barely had a moment alone, and she went looking through the luggage for some fresh clothes…” He shakes his head, remembering fondly the shock that still lingered on Sybil’s face when he had found her moments later. “Thankfully I found her not long after.”

[petit_poete]

Jehan pressed his hand to his mouth, shaking his head a little. "Oh, Dieu, she didn't! What did you say when you found her?"

[jaimemieux]

Combeferre rolls his eyes at Jehan’s affectation of shock, but he cannot stop from grinning sheepishly. “I, ah, explained the situation in rather less romantic fashion than I had hoped to."

[petit_poete]

It was genuine dismay on his friend's behalf combined with vague amusement, although perhaps he expressed it a little dramatically.

The thought of a romantic proposal being foiled was probably far more heartbreaking to him than it was to his friend, though. "And I imagine Sybil was not terribly put off by the lack of romance in the end?" He gave his friend a crooked smile, because of course she'd said yes. She would have to be mad not to say yes.

[jaimemieux]

“No, not in the least.” Henri chuckles at his friend’s dramatics; there is something comforting in knowing that Jehan will respond with appropriate finesse to his story. “She is a very understanding woman. I am lucky to have her.” He blushes as he thinks on the years that will follow, leaving them just as lucky. Sybil is kind, and clever, and beautiful; Henri knows for a fact that he is not the first man to fall under her unintended spell, but somehow, he is the one she chose.

What a miraculous thing love is.

“But I would appreciate your help with the wedding,” he says with a tiny grin, “to ensure that no equally embarrassing mistakes are made then."

[petit_poete]

"Oh, but of course! It will be an honor and a pleasure to help in any way I can," Jehan replied eagerly, beaming with delight at his friend's good news. Truly, they were such a lovely couple, and he couldn't be happier.

[jaimemieux]

“As a matter of fact…” Henri has not thought about the wedding’s specifics much, but on one point he is certain, and Prouvaire’s noble enthusiasm only solidifies his decision. “I would very much like you to stand by my side at the wedding. If you would be amenable.” He grins softly.

[petit_poete]

If Jehan's smile grew much larger, it would threaten to split his face in half. "Dieu, of course I would be amenable," he answered, chuckling. "Nothing would please me more."

[jaimemieux]

Jehan’s joy is so bright that Henri much duck his head in order not to blind himself with it. “Very good.” Softly, he adds, “I never expected this, and am glad I have such friends to see me to it.”