A/N: So I'm loving Combeferre's character atm, and decided that a fic just for him could be cool. This starts before Compatibility, then carries on into the five year gap, ending before Enjolras comes back.


Combeferre had never really paid much heed to romance and girls, figuring that relationships (bar friends and family of course) were unnecessary and rather unimportant in the grand scheme of things, at least for himself they were. His complete innocence in the matters of love were an almost constant source of exasperation for some friends (namely Courfeyrac) and a subject for teasing from others (mostly Bahorel and again Courfeyrac, but Grantaire and Feuilly were known to join in also). He simply did not see the point in them, he would explain patiently, and had once famously told Courfeyrac that "contrary to a popular belief in ancient Greece, lack of sex does not kill you or impeed your health or life in any way whatsoever, therefore I do not see why I have to have it". That, as you can guess, had not gone down well.

All of this added up to one thing: when it came to beautiful girls and flirting, Combeferre was about as dense as you could possibly be.

Even Enjolras had started just dating for the first time a couple of weeks before, and Combeferre was starting to feel betrayed by the friend who had always agreed on every rant about how sex was overrated, when he set off for lectures that morning. He'd barely left their street when the girl had run up to him, panic written clearly all over her face.

"Please help," she gasped, brushing her hair up out of her eyes so she could see him clearly. "I'm seriously lost, and in deep shit if I can't find my way soon."

"Where are you looking for?" he inquired, pulling the creased map of the town out of her hands.

"King George's Building. My first lecture of the day is in there and although it seems easy enough to find on the map, I just can't find it!"

"That's because you're looking in the wrong place," Combeferre explained. "St George's Building is on this road, but that's part of the Student Union so you definitely don't want there at the minute. Look, I'm headed to King George's as well, I can give you a lift if you want. That is, if you're not scared I'm some sort of murdering mad man intent on kidnapping you." He grinned at her, gaining a laugh. "Which I can assure you I'm not. But it's about a fifteen minute walk to that part of campus, and most lectures there start in five minutes. Plus it can be hard to find the correct building as it's hidden behind the archaeology labs."

"In which case, I gratefully accept the lift," she smiled.

"You don't strike me as the philosophy type," he commented once they were in his car and he was driving through town.

"Oh, I'm a theology student really, only we have to take some philosophy modules as part of the course. Hence why it's November and I don't know where the building is. I take it you're doing philosophy though?"

Combeferre nodded. "Yeah, second year."

"Is that really the number of books second years have?" she asked worriedly. "Because it's more than double mine."

Combeferre couldn't help but laugh.

"No, I just like reading. Most of these need returning to the library later today."

"That makes a lot more sense." Getting out of the car as soon as it was parked, the girl followed Combeferre down a couple of alleys before he stopped in front of a Tudor house.

"Welcome to the philosophy department," he announced.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, an honest smile crossing her face. "Oh! I'm Rachael by the way. Rachael Canavan."

"Combeferre Nix."

"See you round Combeferre." And with a small wave she disappeared inside the building, leaving Combeferre standing alone outside for a moment.

"Dammit," he muttered, shaking his head quickly before following her in. "Don't be a sentimental idiot with this."


Two weeks later, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were leaving the Musain to head home when he saw her again on the other side of the street. Although he said nothing Courfeyrac noticed the difference, being an expert in all matters of lust and seduction.

"I'm impressed," he murmured. "I swear this is the first time I have ever seen that look on your face before."

Before Combeferre could ask anything, a frown only just having had enough time to crease his forehead as he turned his head to look at his friend, someone had walked into him and his books were all over the street.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" the girl who'd walked into him cried, immediately dropping to her knees to start picking up the books she'd caused Combeferre to drop. "I wasn't watching where I was walking, it's all my fault, I really am sor- Oh! Hey Combeferre!" Looking down with a bemused expression, Combeferre blinked when he realised it was actually Rachael.

"Oh, hi." He bent to help her, taking the books out of her hands before placing a hand under her elbow and pulling her up with him. "It's fine about the books, really. I should have them in a bag anyway."

"Let me guess, another library visit?" she teased and he nodded, blushing slightly.

Courfeyrac stood to one side watching the exchange of words with a look of disbelief clear on his face. "Oh good god Combeferre's got a girlfriend," he mumbled, too quiet for either to hear what he was saying properly.

"This is my friend Courfeyrac," Combeferre introduced quickly so he wouldn't seem rude. "Courf, this is Rachael. I helped her out when she couldn't find King George's the other week."

"Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning it now." The flirt held out his hand with a beam. "Hi, pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Turning back to Combeferre, she smiled flirtily. "So what are you reading?"

Courfeyrac let them talk for a few moments, Combeferre enthusing over one of his books whilst Rachael listened intently, before interrupting, grabbing Combeferre's arm.

"Excuse us one moment," he said quickly, dragging his friend away.

"What do you want?" Combeferre sighed, dreading the thoughts that he knew were going through his friend's head.

"Ask her out," Courfeyrac hissed, glancing back to where Rachael was waiting. "She's clearly interested in you or she wouldn't have stood there and listened to you talk about that bloody book without complaining or falling asleep. Hell, I was drifting off myself and I'm your friend."

"I am not asking her out," Combeferre gritted out, eyes flickering over to her automatically as he spoke. "You know I don't do relationships Courf."

"You can't take your eyes off her."

"And? She's beautiful, so what? Lots of girls are, doesn't mean I ask them out."

"You never talk to anyone about your precious books."

Combeferre had to admit that Courfeyrac had a point.

"...I don't know what to say."

"Just ask her if she'd like to have a drink sometime, or maybe dinner. Bring up the subject of films, find out if there's anything she'd like to watch. Or I can go over there and ask her out for you."

"What do you think I am, a teenage girl?" Combeferre snapped, trying to straighten his hair without being too obvious about it before heading back over to join Rachael. "So I was wondering," he started nervously, biting his lip as he built up the nerve, "if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime."

"I'd love to," she smiled, flicking her hair out of her face. "When were you thinking?"

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

"Does seven sound okay?"

He grinned. "Perfect. If you give me an address, I'll pick you up beforehand?"

Taking a book from him which he'd mentioned as his own Rachael opened it to the title page and jotted down an address and number. "See you then," she smirked as she handed it back, leaning up and kissing his cheek, waving over her shoulder as she walked off. Sensing Courfeyrac at his shoulder Combeferre managed to drag his eyes off her and over to his friend.

"Happy now?"


"Does this shirt look okay?"

"Dude, you've been dating the chick for two months. You don't have to try and impress her anymore," Grantaire mumbled from his place tucked up next to Enjolras on the sofa. "You aim to impress until you've fucked them. After that, so long as the sex is good they don't really give a shit."

"It's a new shirt and I want to know if it looks okay," Combeferre repeated, hoping that his oldest friend would reply instead this time. The blonde gave him a cursory look before turning his attention back to the newspaper he was reading.

"You look fine," he told him.

"Are you sure?"

Enjolras paid attention this time only because Grantaire had sat up and was staring at Combeferre.

"Oh my god you haven't done it yet. That's why you're so desperate to know how it looks."

"Shut up," the philosophy student muttered, turning almost as red as Enjolras's hoody.

"I'll tell you one thing, you won't have to wait much longer wearing that shirt." Grantaire whistled, long and low. "Damn 'Ferre, but wearing that even I gotta admit you like hot. If you weren't straight and I didn't have a boyfriend..."

"You may want to swap those two statements around when said boyfriend is in the room," Enjolras pointed out.

"So it looks good?"

"Hell yes," was the artist's only reply.

"Does she know you're a virgin still?" Enjolras asked bluntly, and Grantaire stared at Combeferre in shock, mouth opening slightly.

"No!" he squealed, regretting ever making the noise the instant it left his mouth. "Grantaire, don't you dare say a thing!"

"Well won't that go well when she tries to jump you," the blonde commented dryly, going back to reading his paper again.

"I gotta go," Combeferre said quickly when he saw Grantaire opening his mouth to say something. "Bye!"

"What did we miss?" Courfeyrac demanded when he and Jehan entered the room a few seconds after Combeferre had dashed out, only narrowly missing knocking them over.

"Nothing," Enjolras said firmly, glaring at Grantaire when he opened his mouth to tell them all the sordid details. Under his breath, he issued a small warning to his boyfriend. "If you want to ever have sex with me again, I would think twice about telling them anything about the conversation we just had with 'Ferre."

Grantaire's mouth shut instantly.


Rachael let out a low sigh of appreciation when Combeferre's mouth moved to her neck, hands stroking her sides lightly as he sucked and nipped lightly at a spot. The moan that escaped her lips when he ghosted over a sensitive spot on her collarbone, not helped by how she arched her body up into him, turned him on even more and he was almost embarrassed by how quickly he felt his trousers tighten. Although Combeferre did his best to angle his hips away from her, Rachael could feel the erection and pressed the heel of her hand against it, eliciting a gasp from her boyfriend.

"I can tell you want me," she breathed into his ear, rubbing her hand against him until his hips bucked automatically. "And it's been two months. Will you please just fuck me?"

"It's... complicated," he murmured, voice catching when she nipped at his ear lobe.

"It doesn't have to be."

Catching her hands as they started on his belt, he sighed when her eyes met his, a hurt look in them.

"I... I've never done this before," he whispered, glancing away.

"Seriously?" Reaching up she traced a path lightly down his face. "As in, never?"

"No."

The embarrassment in his eyes was obvious.

"I've never been with a virgin before," she murmured, leaning up to kiss him lightly. "I'm guessing you're not quite ready yet."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." The twinkle in her eyes was mischievous as she pulled him down into a long languid kiss. "I'm willing to wait until you are."

"Thank you." The mumble was so quiet Rachael wasn't even sure she'd heard him, but Combeferre meant it from the bottom of his heart.


Four months into the relationship, Combeferre was finally ready. He didn't have the nerve to tell Rachael, instead just accepting her offer for a coffee at her dorm after their dinner. Them falling onto her bed or his sofa, depending which flat they were at, was a regular occurance during dates, and his shirt often ended up on the floor though they never made it past making out. This night though, things were going to be different.

Rachael made no fuss when Combeferre started to unbutton her blouse, simply shrugging it off once he'd finished then inching forwards on the bed, straddling his lap instead of the pair sitting facing each other. As he kissed a slow trail down her neck she rocked slowly against him, earning a hitched breath and a hand gripping her hip tightly. When he unfastened her bra (a task which he was pleased went incredibly well for it being his first time) she seemed to realise what was going to happen and kissed him passionately, one hand fisting in his hair whilst the other slipped down to his belt.

Once all clothes were out of the picture and they were actually lying on the bed together, Combeferre had to fight down the nerves and worries of "what if he wasn't any good at sex?", instead simply acting by instinct and trusting it to guide him well. Rachael had never been more beautiful, he decided as he moved above her, and he finally understood why his friends had laughed off all his previous comments on how sex was unnecessary as the orgasm swept over him.

"I love you," he gasped into her neck as he came down from the feeling, the words slipping out without him even realising. Laughing quietly, Rachael kissed his cheek and curled up against his side when he rolled off her.

"It's still a little early for the declarations," she said with a small smile, and Combeferre nodded, his mind agreeing even if his heart was shouting something else.


As summer reached them, late as normal, and it was finally pleasant enough weather to be outside for longer than five minutes, the couple's free time was spent in the park or Combeferre's garden, picnicing whilst studying or just reading for pleasure, occasionally playing games or, most often, make-out sessions which resulted in them moving desperately for a private place, still held together through kisses if possible.

It was on one of these sunny days when it next happened. Combeferre was leaning against a tree with Rachael lying next to him, head in his lap and his hand stroking her softly whilst he read to aloud to her, when he suddenly stopped. Placing the book down onto the grass beside him, he studied her face for a moment.

"What is it?" she asked, pushing herself up onto one elbow so she could better see his face.

"I love you."

The words were soft and quiet but still firm enough that she believed it, and Rachael lent forwards to kiss him, her free hand cupping his cheek as she did so. The kiss deepened as he pulled her closer and they stayed that way until Grantaire threw a pillow at them from Enjolras's window.

"Find a room," he called down, smirking at the glare he was given by his friend. "Only not this one, it's taken."

"Was that my pillow?" Enjolras could be heard to snap in the background, and Combeferre smiled at his friend's antics before scooping Rachael up into his arms bridal style, making her laugh as he carried her indoors and up the stairs to his bedroom before any different noises from his friend's room left through the open window.

"I mean it," he told her that night, Rachael's head pillowed on his chest and both still breathing heavily. "I do love you."

"I know," she said softly, kissing his collarbone tiredly. "I'll see you in the morning 'Ferre. Night."

"Night," he whispered, wondering when she would be ready to say those three small (yet so important) words back.


Over the course of the next few months he found himself saying those words more and more often, generally during sex but occasionally at other random times. Rachael always replied with a smile and a soft kiss but Combeferre did sometimes wonder if that was enough.

"I love her, I know this, she just never says it back," he complained to Jehan one day, hoping the poet would understand. "And it probably doesn't help that I'm having to cancel dates to look after Grantaire whenever he's in a bad way, because for some crazy reason he refuses to talk to or listen to anyone else. Not that he really listens to me at the end of the day. But what can I do? Every time I tell her I love her, she just kisses me."

"Maybe she has commitment problems," Jehan suggested, mulling the problem over. "Or thinks she's too young to be in love. Or, quite possibly, her kissing you is her way of saying it. Like in Ghost, when Patrick Swayze's character says "Ditto"."

"That isn't really that much help," Combeferre sighed, resting his head in his hands.

"You may have missed her saying it." His head shot back up at that and he stared over at where Courfeyrac was standing in the doorway. "You know, she could have said it during sex or something, and you just missed it."

"Or she just doesn't love you like you love her," Grantaire pointed out from behind Courfeyrac, his cynical side poking through again.

"Not helping 'Taire," Combeferre snapped in reply, but Grantaire simply shrugged and vanished off into the house again.

"Just give her time," was Jehan's final suggestion.


Missing lectures was annoying, Combeferre decided that evening as he copied up the notes of Hugo Crane, a friend of two years who had sat next to Combeferre in every single lecture since their very first together. He had had a valid reason for his truancy though - Grantaire's panic attacks had become less and less common as he fought his way through the withdrawal and the months passed, but they were by no means any less dangerous when they did occur - and at least Hugo's notes were clear and thorough.

"I'm just off to drop Hugo's notes off," he called up the stairs to where he could hear his housemates playing cards in the lounge, heading for the door when he heard their cries of acknowledgement followed by a loud "Bullshit!" from Feuilly. The winter wind was cruel as he opened the door but couldn't be helped, and he managed to fight his way valiantly to his friend's flat, grateful that he'd been giving a key and wouldn't be left hanging around on the doorstep.

Once inside the flat, his gratitude at this fact vanished.

The moaning was obvious the second the door opened and Combeferre regretted stepping inside the moment he had done so, the sex taking place on the sofa drawing his gaze immediately. What he saw however was not only scarring, but also heartbreaking.

"You bastard!"

For the first time in his life Combeferre hit a man, knocking Hugo down almost as soon as he was on his feet. Rachael shrank into the sofa, unable to meet Combeferre's eye as he stared at her questioningly and he eventually shook his head sadly, disgusted by them both.

No other words were spoken as he turned and ran from the building, fleeing blindly in his attempt to just get away from them both. When Combeferre reached the nearest park he curled himself up into the corner of a bench and gave up trying to wipe the tears away, instead letting the sobs escape and rip through his body. For while Combeferre had once thought he would never cry over anything like a girl or a relationship, he really had come to love Rachael, and her betrayal had successfully broken his heart.