thuk*

of-courf-not  asked:

If you're still doing prompts, some comforting, sweet, soft and quiet Courferre moments would be lovely. <3

Fresh bread warming in the oven, the smell mingling with sweet jam, butter, and coffee, made for a perfect morning in Combeferre’s totally unbiased opinion. The only thing that could make it better was a free morning, but that eluded him for now; he had an early shift for his internship, which meant his morning got started earlier than the rest of the apartment. Courfeyrac was still in bed, and Enjolras’ door remained thankfully shut- whether he and his current bed company of Grantaire were still asleep was not about to be Ferre’s problem.

The only sounds in the kitchen were the bubbling of the coffee pot and the soft thuk of his knife sliding through a strawberry, so the arms that suddenly found their way around his waist came as a bit of a surprise. “Shouldn’t you know better than to sneak up on an armed man?” he scolded, trying his very best to sound serious.

Courfeyrac nuzzled against his boyfriend’s back as he shook his head. “I like the danger,” he muttered sleepily. “I smelled coffee.”

“I made coffee.” Combeferre set the knife aside and slipped his fingers through Courf’s. “And you ruined my surprise.”

Ferre could feel Courf’s eyebrows raise through his shirt and smiled. The grip on his middle slacked, though their hands remained together. “Surprise?”

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