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Courferre Week

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July 1-7 is Courferre ship week! Please tag all your fanworks with 'courferre week' and/or 'courferre week 2018' so others can see and enjoy it! Feel free to ask any questions you might have. All fanworks welcome!

Do you want to be a mod for this blog?

hey guys, so glad to see you if you’ve stuck it out following me even though i’ve been unactive! i’m not really active in the les mis fandom anymore (though i love it dearly) and so i want to give this blog to somebody / somebodies who will be able to use it and put Courferre Week back on whenever you feel like it ! ask or message if interested!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac Characters: Combeferre (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), the whole gang pops up Additional Tags: Domestic, Fluff, slight angst at the beginning but not really, Dancing, Established Relationship, well the relationship gets established at the beginning, Alcohol, implied sexual content but nothing graphic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courferre Week Summary:

Courfeyrac grabbed his hand with suggestively raised eyebrows, a silent invitation. Combeferre felt his heart lurch into his throat as his mouth split into a grin. He revelled in the sight - Courfeyrac, dancing to ABBA in his kitchen, wearing nothing but socks and one of Combeferre’s shirts that was two sizes too large, as the smell of coffee and sugar wafted around them.

Or in which, Combeferre can’t help but dance.

Parlours, babies and perfect contentment

Regency au, 1000w, written for Courferre week 2018
A few months before Heaven in Your Arms, Combeferre visits the De Courfeyracs in their house in Town.
(Also on AO3) Can be read without knowing the rest of the series

Combeferre walked up the steps to the house the De Courfeyracs had rented in Town, mind fully occupied in composing a reply to the treatise on archaeology he finished reading late last night.

He got jerked out of his thoughts when the servant opening the door gave him a deferential bow instead of scolding him for forgetting his gloves. The housekeeper, Mrs Jenkins, and her staff, had for many years been warning him that if he would keep forgetting his gloves, he’d catch a frightful cold. It had been years since any of the faithful De Courfeyrac servants had seen him as a guest and not someone to be fussed over. It had also been years since he had been forced to ask after Courfeyrac’s whereabouts instead of immediately being pointed in the right direction. This boy had to be a recent local hire.

After having given his name, he was pointed to the parlour, where he was told he could find Madame entertaining her children. Combeferre left his hat and coat and made his way into the parlour unannounced. He and Enjolras had always been allowed to run wild in Courfeyrac’s house, by virtue of having done so since the time when nothing could contain their childish energies and schoolboy adventures.

In the parlour, instead of Madame de Courfeyrac surrounded by her brood, the company was comprised only of Courfeyrac with a baby in his lap. He was talking quite seriously to his baby sibling, so absorbed in impressing his wisdom that he hasn’t even heard Combeferre come in.

“-and you must know that London is full of adventurers who would seek your favour. And even though that sounds exciting, you must take it from your big brother that while an adventure may be enjoyable, an adventurer will not.”

The baby had got its chubby hands around Courfeyrac’s cravat and was deeply concentrated in undoing the elaborate knot, ignoring this sage advice completely.

Courfeyrac in turn straightened the baby’s gown. It was an elaborately embroidered one. Combeferre remembered Courfeyrac slaving over it when the arrival of his new sibling was announced. He also remembered Madame de Courfeyrac cleverly pleating it so the places where Courfeyrac had lost focus and misplaced stitches were invisible. Courfeyrac really did not have the disposition for the more sedentary arts. Even now, contently sitting with a baby in his lap, he was in constant motion. He was constantly smoothing down the downy curls, or lifting the baby to encouraging the fat little feet to simulate walking over his thighs. The baby was missing one sock, leaving the baby with one pudgy little foot bare. Courfeyrac noticed the missing item and looked about him to find it. He found Combeferre instead, still leaning against the doorpost. A smile instantly overtook his face.

“Combeferre! You’re here! And I am all alone with my favourite sibling and now you are here and it will be the most famous morning!”

His face was glowing with delight and Combeferre found himself brightening to mirror it.

“Guess what little monster,” Courfeyrac lifted the baby, who gurgled in approval, “kept nurse up all night with some truly lamentable wailing?”

Courfeyrac tried to keep a stern face as he gently tapped the culprit on the nose. The expression melted away the instant the baby caught his finger in a chubby little fist. Courfeyrac looked up at Combeferre in delight, pride shining in his features.

“So Mama gave her leave to sleep now and she’s instructing Alexandre and Alice in an impromptu lesson in the art of overmastering French cooks, so I was left to steal away with my favourite baby.”

Courfeyrac pulled some ridiculously besotted faces, which he promptly hid against the baby’s round tummy, making silly noises all the while. Combeferre had still not moved away from the door, too occupied in making certain his insides were all in their proper place. It felt as if they had all melted into one.

“You’ll be nice to Combeferre, won’t you, little lamb? Of course you will, because you are my little Charlotte – or perhaps my little Charles, I suppose you’ll tell us when you’re older – and because you are my little Charlotte you could not possibly fail to love the man your brother loves.”

Combeferre finally regained the command of his limbs, but only insofar as it allowed him to hasten to Courfeyrac’s side. He soon found himself with a gurgling baby on his lap and a delighted Courfeyrac playing with both their fingers. Combeferre thought to himself that this, perhaps, was perfect contentment.

Or perhaps not. There was only one strange thing about the situation, one thing lacking. Combeferre had been alone with Courfeyrac for a full five minutes, with not even a kiss on his cheek to show for it.

Then again, it was a very unusual situation. Courfeyrac did not often get time with the baby alone, without nurse looking over his shoulder eagle-eyed and foreboding, so it was not so very wonderful. And this opportunity had clearly re-ordered Courfeyrac’s priorities in their entirety. Not only had it superseded Courfeyrac’s usual desire to make sure Combeferre did not stay unkissed for long, but the baby had also dribbled over Courfeyrac’s fine coat without being exiled from his lap, another thing Combeferre had not thought possible. He took a moment to re-order his thought and brush his hands through Charlotte’s downy hair, doing the same to Courfeyrac’s more orderly curls for reasons of accurate comparison. At last Combeferre decided it fell to him to remedy the sad lack of kisses they were both enduring.

Courfeyrac, who seemed to know what Combeferre was feeling before Combeferre himself did, obligingly turned his face to bring their smiles closer together. And with the baby attempting to nibble on their fingers and its own foot alike, Combeferre set himself to supplying himself and his love with the necessities for perfect contentment.

Anonymous asked:

hi, i was just wondering, when exactly is courferre week 2018? :)

You know, I have yet to check with other couple’s weeks and stuff like that, but I’ve been thinking maybe the end of June. That puts it between Barricade Day/Enjoltaire week and Bastille Day, so I think that’d be good. If anybody had any preferences or ideas, let me know!

It’s Courferre week so have a few words of domesticity ❤️

___________________

Combeferre’s hand reached out in search of the warm body he knew to be next to him. When none was found, he opened his eyes. Blinking, he took in his surroundings. Courfeyrac had apparently opened the blinds a little to let in a little light. Save for the noises coming from the kitchen the flat was quiet and still in those early morning hours. Combeferre stretched and yawned, sitting up in bed. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and felt around for his glasses. With them perched on his nose, he grabbed his phone to check his messages. A smile spread on his lips as he read Courfeyrac’s good-morning-message. That idiot. As if they wouldn’t see each other soon. As if on cue, the door opened slowly, revealing Courfeyrac carrying in a tray with breakfast. He stopped dead in his tracks and poured. “You’re supposed to be asleep! So I can prepare everything and wake you with kisses.” Combeferre laughed softly and took off his glasses, snuggling back into bed. “Okay. I’m gonna close my eyes and you can wake me. Pretend-wake me.” Courfeyrac giggled and crawled into bed, kissing Combeferre’s cheek, peppering his face with tiny pecks. “Good morning, moonshine! First morning in our flat.” Combeferre grinned and opened his eyes again, kissing Courfeyrac softly. “We’ve lived together for three years before you moved out because our lease was up.” “Yes but this is our first own flat!” “Technically, it’s my flat. I lived here with Enjolras.” Courfeyrac groaned and rolled on top of Combeferre, kissing him again. “It’s our own flat because we have redecorated, painted the walls, bought a nice new bed, turned Enjolras’ old room into a living room and got a second book case. Now it’s our proper own flat because we own stuff together.” Combeferre hummed softly. “We’ve always owned something together. Our hearts.”

Sunshine

[Courferre week 2017, day 3, Light]

“Good morning!”

Combeferre might not be awake yet, but he still instinctually hides his face in his pillow. The sound of the curtains being thrown open makes him groan, but the daylight doesn’t reach him.

“Come on,” Courfeyrac chimes, walking up to the bed with bouncing steps. “I’m making breakfast.”

Combeferre mutters something that’s meant to be “ten more minutes”, but even to his own ears doesn’t sound anything like it.

Nevertheless, Courfeyrac replies immediately: “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have said ‘ten more pages’ last night.”

Combeferre groans and reaches out a hand without lifting up his head, making a grabbing motion in Courfeyrac’s general direction.

“No, no,” Courfeyrac laughs. “No pulling me back in bed again. It’s an out and about day! Look, the sun is shining.”

There is literally no one that Combeferre has ever loved the way he loves Courfeyrac. But that does not mean he understands him and Combeferre does not understand how someone that is capable of staying up until five in the morning on a random energy spike can be a morning person. To be fair Courfeyrac is also capable of going to bed at ten sharp because he is excited for tomorrow. Combeferre doesn’t really understand that either. He rolls onto his back and reluctantly opens his eyes. Courfeyrac is standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at him. Slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes, Combeferre smiles back. The sun is indeed shining.

“Breakfast and coffee ready when you are,” Courfeyrac chimes, blowing him a kiss before darting out of the room.

Combeferre sits up and glances at the window. The sun is shining out there too.

Babysitting

[Courferre week 2017, day 4, Nerd]

Courfeyrac adores his nieces, he really does. They are remarkably hard to handle though. His mother likes to remind him he was exactly like them at their age: a small, high-energy chatterbox with more enthusiasm than self-preservation. (His brothers like to point out that he is still all of those things, but the joke is mostly on them, because it’s their children he’s being compared to.)

At this moment, however, Courfeyrac cannot hear the children in question. This is never a good sign and it’s especially worried since he left them alone with Combeferre for a moment while he ran next door to ask his grandmother if she wanted dinner to be at hers or his mom’s.

“You guys better be-”

“Shhh!”

Courfeyrac shuts his mouth in response to the stern shushing and accusing looks directed at him by all four of his nieces. They are sitting on the rug in front of the couch, where Combeferre is sitting with a book leaning on his knees. He glances up at Courfeyrac just long enough to give him a smile and then he continues reading aloud. The three girls listen with rapt attention. Courfeyrac is scarcely less enthralled (though for different reasons) as his boyfriend reads in a singsong storytelling voice he has never heard him use before:

“Then the whole town will gasp, ‘Why this boy never sleeps! No keeper before ever kept what he keeps. There’s no telling what that young fellow will do!’ And then, just to show them, I’ll sail to Ka­troo And bring back an It­Kutch a Preep and a Proo, A Nerkle, a Nerd and a Seersucker too.”

He moves the book so the girls can see the pictures of the animals. They all crane their necks and giggle, before sitting back again and listening happily while Combeferre finishes the story. Courfeyrac is astonished. The only time his nieces will stay still long enough to be read to is when they are being put to bed.

“And boy!” Combeferre read with conviction.

“When I get him back home to my park, The whole world will say, ‘Young McGrew’s made his mark’!”

He closes the book and smiles at the girls. “Want to hear another one?”

“Yes!” they cheer.

“Well, I only brought one so you’ll have to fetch me something,” Combeferre tells them.

The children leap to their feet. “We’ll get some!” They fly out the door and the sound of them galloping up the stairs reverberates through the house.

Courfeyrac turns towards Combeferre and beams at him.

“What?” he smiles.

“You brought a book to read to them?” Courfeyrac asks delightedly. “Especially?”

“Yeah?” Combeferre says, running a hand through his short hair. “I always liked Dr Seuss as a kid.”

“You’re adorable,” Courfeyrac gushes. He wraps his arms around Combeferre and gives him a happy squeeze. “And you said you weren’t good with kids,” he teases, letting his arms slide off him as he sits down next to him.

“I said I didn’t know a lot of kids,” Combeferre contradicts. “My sister is still the youngest in the family.”

“That’s a shame,” Courfeyrac smiles. “Cause you’re great with kids.”

Combeferre smirks. “Maybe I’m just good with Courfeyrac’s,” he says.

“Maybe,” Courfeyrac grins and he presses a kiss on his cheek. Upstairs the tell-tale sounds of running feet announce the approaching return of his nieces. “Not a word about this to my brothers though,” Courfeyrac advises urgently. “Or you’ll be babysitting every other holiday!”