A/N: Yes, I really should be working on NaNoWriMo. However, I found out that it was (or was near) Ferrejolras week, so I just had to commemorate the occasion. I apologize in advance for any mistakes- my brain's pretty fried from being in a constant state of writing. Having fun though! This is one of two one-shots I'll be writing for Ferrejolras week. Please enjoy the fluff!
-Vroche
Combeferre's eyes blinked open blearily as the shutter-striped light from the window lit his face. With an internal groan, he rolled over with full intentions to check the time on the bedside clock with glowing blue numbers.
"Grmmph...wha?" A startled half yelp, half grumble came from the lump that Combeferre had just rolled on top of. Combeferre soon tumbled back to his original position on the bed. "Enjolras?"
"Yeah, it's me," came the sarcastic reply. "Way to wake someone up. Not fun having two hundred and fifty pounds squash the guts out of you at five in the morning." Despite his tone of voice, Enjolras couldn't keep the slight grin off his face at seeing his best friend's apologetic and sleepy expression. The blonde haired revolutionary eased into a sitting position and carded his fingers through his curls.
"Well, sorry," Combeferre replied, his voice still slurred from sleep. He glanced at Enjolras, who, even five minutes after waking up, looked as noble and god-like as usual. "And I'm not two hundred and fifty pounds."
"I know, I'm sorry, Ferre," Enjolras grinned a bit in spite of himself.
"Don't worry about it, Enj. Now, can we go back to sleep? Please? Who wakes up at five in the morning?"
"I do! Besides, we're both already up and you don't have any shifts today, do you?"
"Nope..."
"Good." Enjolras reached over and grabbed Combeferre's arm, tugging it in a futile effort to get him out of bed. "Ferre..." Enjolras warned. "Don't make me..."
"Don't make you what?" inquired Combeferre tiredly. In the back of his mind, he knew full well what Enjolras was plotting, but the thought of sleep was dimming his mind and limiting his thoughts.
Enjolras sighed dramatically. "You leave me with no choice, 'Ferre." Reaching under their fluffy maroon-and-cream colored blanket, he found his friend's bare stomach and jabbed his fingers there and then began to wiggle them around.
"Stooop!" Combeferre roared with laughter.
"Never!" Enjolras shook his heard and smirked, increasing his tickling.
Combeferre nearly rolled off the bed laughing, and there were tears in his now wide awake eyes as Enjolras pulled him back on the bed with a hefty heave, not a second too late.
Taking advantage of his split second in the air (because Enjolras was really rather strong for a man who never bothered to work out), Combeferre manueverd himself on top of Enjolras and lightly tickled his neck and armpits, where Enjolras was famous for being ticklish.
"Aww, 'Ferre," Enjolras pleaded as he struggled to get the upper hand again.
"Karma," was the only reply he got before he was overtaken by unstoppable giggles. Enjorlas didn't think he had ever laughed so hard in his life.
"Declare your surrender to the almighty Combeferre and maybe he will show you mercy," announced Combeferre, his face deviod of any of his previous drowsiness.
He got no reply and instead collapsed in a fit of laughtter, for Enjolras had, by some fitness miracle, heaved himself up using only his stomach and was able to use those nimble fingers of his to overtake Combeferre once again. This tine, both friends just lay on the rumpled bed for a minute, resting their aching stomachs.
"Love ya, Ferret," Enjolras whispered loudly, after a good ten minutes had gone by.
"You too, Enj," Combeferre replied in a stage whisper as well, puting emphasis on Enjolras's hated nickname. After a moment of thought, he added, "I won, by the way."
Enjolras raised and eyebrow but otherwise continued to lay flat on his back, staring at their popcorn ceiling. "Is that so? Because I think I recall-" He was interrupted by another tickle attack form Combeferre.
When they finally settled down again, they were both crying from laughing so hard and had one of them been their friend Joly, they would have thought they'd cracked a rib. Or two. Or three.
Enjolras lay sprawled on their king-sized bed, his hand clasping Combeferre's, who was lying right next to him. The two revolutionaries spent the whole day talking about the life that used to be, tickling techniques, politics, pretty much anything.
The last thought in Enjolras's head as they both fell silent in the fading light was that he was beyond lucky to have such an amazing friend.
The last thought in Combeferre's head as their chatter came to a content stop was that he was incredibly lucky to have such a great friend.
