Waking up has never been a thing Enjolras likes to do. It’s a never-ending battle between his desire to roll over and bury his face in a pillow so he can go back to sleep and the persistent voice at the back of his head reminding him of all the things he needs to do, like write that paper or go to that class, or change the world.
This time the first one wins though. He wakes up on the very edge of the bed, which is odd, and he can’t even find his alarm clock to check the time, but without any further thought he rolls over and presses further into the bed. He doesn’t get very far, because apparently his bed has shrunk? The pillow he buries his face in isn’t very pillow-like either, but feels rather like a human body. It smells really nice, and the arms wrapping around him assures him he won’t fall out of the bed. Then he is asleep again.
The next time he wakes there is something that feels like a hand resting at the center of his chest, the thumb (he supposes) stroking his skin. He thinks what actually pulls him out of his slumber is the kissing on his face. On his nose, on his cheek, on his eyelids, on his forehead; he is getting kisses everywhere. As a result he scrunches up his face and tries to hide in a pillow, but a gentle touch fixes his head and a kiss is pressed to his lips this time. He opens his eyes with a pout to find a triumphantly grinning Courfeyrac, who is all bright and shiny like no one has any right to be when Enjolras is still so very sleepy.
He mumbles soemthing about going back to sleep, and Courfeyrac either doesn’t hear or understand him, or he simply ignores him, because there is more kissing and smiling. “You are so cute when you’re just waking up.”
“No. No cute. Just sleepy.”
“I always thought Combeferre was exaggerating when he compared you to a sleepy kitten, but he really wasn’t.” Courfeyrac’s voice is much brighter and happier than anyone’s voice really needs to be, and Enjolras groans. “And your hair, Enjolras. Your hair."
Enjolras rolls over to escape the cooing. He doesn’t need to know how ridiculous his hair looks in the morning. He knows. He turns back to Courfeyrac when he almost falls out of the bed. "Your bed is too tiny.”
“Then go lie down in your own.” Courfeyrac waves his hand, probably gesturing at Enjolras’ bed at the other side of their dorm room.
“No.” He presses his face into Courfeyrac’s chest, burying his nose in the soft fabric of his t-shirt and inhaling. Courfeyrac always smells so good. He says so, but he doesn’t think Courfeyrac hears it.
“Is this gonna happen every time you sleep in my bed?” Courfeyrac asks, fingers carding through Enjolras tangled hair. “Because if it is, you’re gonna need to give me tips on how to get you out of bed.”
“No. It’s just too early.”
“What?” Enjolras bolts out of bed so fast you’d think he’d been electrocuted. “It can’t be, I was supposed to meet Combeferre for coffee hours ago. Where’s my phone?” he grabs for some clothes on the floor, eyes scanning the room for his phone, and when Courfeyrac grabs his shoulders and guides him back to the bed, he’s got one foot halfway down the sleeve of a sweater.
“You didn’t miss it. He texted you early this morning to say he couldn’t make it,” Courfeyrac explains while freeing Enjolras from his favorite sweater. “Apparently he and Feuilly were up all night ‘talking eastern European politics’ whatever that’s code for.”
“That’s not code. They probably did stay up all night talking about that.”
“I know. Anyway, he wanted to sleep, so he cancelled.”
“Does that mean I can go back to sleep?” Enjolras asks, lying back down, even though he doesn’t really feel like sleeping anymore, but Courfeyrac won’t have it.
“No, because you already slept all night.” Courfeyrac straddles his hips and pulls Enjolras back into a sitting position. “And as your boyfriend of exactly four days I—"
Enjolras shuts him up with a firm kiss, one that Courfeyrac eagerly meets while he wraps his arms around Enjolras’ neck. "I find I’m not very sleepy anymore,” Enjolras says. “But I do think it’s very important that we stay in bed.”
Courfeyrac kisses him deeply again before asking, “Oh really?”
“Mhm. I hear it’s the best place to discuss eastern European politics,” Enjolras says, and Courfeyrac grins as he pushes Enjolras’ shoulders back into the mattress.
“Tell me, what do you know of the subject?” Courfeyrac bends down to scatter kisses all along Enjolras’ collarbone and down his chest.
“Not much. I thought maybe you could teach me.” Enjolras runs his fingers through Courfeyrac’s dark locks and gasps as he drags his teeth over Enjolras’ nipple.
“I don’t know. Feuilly would be a much better tutor of this particular area,” Courfeyrac says thoughtfully, stopping everything he’s doing.
“No. No, don’t stop,” Enjolras protests. Courfeyrac presses his warm mouth to a spot just under Enjolras’ jawline this time and gets an appreciative hum in return. Enjolras needs a couple of more moments to collect his thoughts before he adds, “You should teach me something else then, if you’d like.”
He can feel Courfeyrac’s smile against his skin and immediately gives one in return. “I guess I could show you a thing or two,” Courfeyrac says. “If you want.”
“And you’re not sleepy anymore?”
“Nope, not at all.”