A/N: last time I attempted a sickfic, it turned into a monstrosity (which I am proud of, by the way) and I was asked if I was drunk at the time of writing it (which I was not!). This one, however, is actually a sickfic, starring the one and only Combeferre! This was written especially for my dear friend That Creative One. Also, I do plan on updating "Aftermath" and "The Little Bird And The Lark" soon, as well as a new E/R fic idea I have. Life has been super busy, so I humbly apologize. Anyway, enjoy!
-Vroche
"This is gonna be gold," exclaimed Courfeyrac, almost jogging through the deep snow with his partner in crime, Jehan Prouvaire, close behind.
"You bet," panted Jehan, slogging through the snow rather ungracefully behind Courfeyrac. Last time they had checked the weather, it had been three below zero. Both boys' cheeks were flushed a bright red, as were their noses and ears, which may or not have lost some feeling. But their eyes were bright and full of mischief, hinting their plans.
The pair was crossing through the large, empty field that separated their neighborhood from the neighborhood where their targets were residing. The field was a favorite of their group of friends, and it also happened to be perfect for picnics and Capture The Flag in the spring, water gun fights and tag in the summer, paintball wars in the fall…and snowball fights in the winter.
It wasn't long before they arrived at the small duplex where their best friends resided. With a smile across his excessively freckled face, Courfeyrac knocked on their burgundy door, causing the frost-covered evergreen wreath to swing a bit. Quickly, Courfeyrac gathered up some snow off the front doorstep and, with skill that only came from experience, was able to create three snowballs before the door opened to reveal a tired-looking Enjolras wrapped up in a fluffy red robe, blonde curls askew, and clasping a steaming mug of coffee. (Or hot chocolate. Or hot chocolate-flavored coffee. It was hard to tell from the smell.)
"This had better be-" Enjolras's words were cut off as Jehan, who had lingered behind Courfeyrac in order to make some more snowballs, rapidly fired several at the blonde in the doorway. Courfeyrac quickly followed up with his own. Sputtering, Enjolras stood there for a moment in shock before quickly shutting the door to protect himself and then yelling through it, "This means WAR, Courf!"
Inside, Enjolras quickly shed his snow-covered robe, set his beverage on the table, and dashed to his room, yelling to his roommate Combeferre as he ran by, "Courf and Jehan ambushed me at the door, up for a snowball fight?"
Combeferre, who had been sitting on the couch, reading the latest newspaper on his Kindle, internally sighed. Enjolras was usually referred to as a "man of marble" because of his generally serious disposition, but such fights triggered his inner child, and he was known to take the games very seriously. He considered his options. It was a Saturday morning (a glance at the clock proved it to be exactly 10:47), he wasn't really doing anything productive, and as far as he knew, they didn't have anywhere else to be that day. "I'm in," Combeferre declared, rushing to his room to get dressed for the cold.
In less than five minutes flat, the roommates were bundled up in the appropriate winter gear and stood by the door, huddling together.
"We need some sort of game plan," Enjolras said quietly. "Otherwise they'll be upon us as soon as we open the door."
"Well, we could go out the back door, grab some ammo, then run around to the front and surprise them," suggested Combeferre, pulling on his gloves.
"Great idea!"
The two rushed, silently, out their back door and proceeded to gather as many snowballs as they could find before running around the duplex and attacking Jehan and Courfeyrac on sight, with Enjolras bellowing a war cry.
"YEAH!" shouted Courfeyrac, ducking a snowball from Combeferre and using Jehan as a human shield while he crafted more of the snowy spheres.
Jehan, obviously not happy about being a shield, had the best aim out of the four of them, and definitely used it as he chucked snowballs at Enjolras and Combeferre.
The fight raged on for a little while more before it eventually moved out into the field, where each team constructed a snow wall (Enjolras preferred to call it a snow barricade) and they fought in a more strategized mode. Courfeyrac and Jehan had their jacket hoods up as a "team symbol," and, arguably, were winning the fight considering that Combeferre was wheezing and had a snowball-throwing rate of approximately two every five minutes. Enjolras, however, was still going strong, his red beanie periodically popping up from behind their snow wall to lob a snowball at their opponents.
Although Enjolras and Combeferre put up a good fight, Jehan and Courfeyrac eventually prevailed. ("Sweet," noted Jehan, "because it would have been extremely embarrassing if we challenged you to a snowball fight and then lost it.")
After declaring a temporary truce, they spent the rest of the day being little kids- snow angels, snowmen, burying certain people in the snow, and the like.
It was a little while later, and the four friends were sitting at Enjolras and Combeferre's round kitchen table, defrosting, chatting, and sipping warm drinks (hot chocolate/coffee for Enjolras, tea for Combeferre and Jehan, and hot chocolate for Courfeyrac). Combeferre had been so kind as to bring out some leftover Christmas ham and mashed potatoes to eat. It was quickly consumed by the group, their rumbling stomachs happy to be full after they had run around outside all day and skipped lunch.
The sun soon began to lower itself over the horizon, and Courfeyrac and Jehan said their goodbyes and departed.
"Well, that was fun," Combeferre mused, blowing his red nose (Courfeyrac had joked he resembled Santa Claus) and smiling at Enjolras, who was fiddling with their TV, attempting to make it play a movie.
"It was," Enjolras nodded in agreement.
"Sweet of them to spend the day with us. I dunno what we would have done otherwise." Combeferre let out a weak laugh.
"Yeah...hey, 'Ferre, are you okay?" Enjolras noticed his friend's eyes watering and the pile of tissues by his side that he had been accumulating. "You don't look so good. I'm going to call Joly."
Before Combeferre could open his mouth, Enjolras had crossed the room and picked up the phone. He decided against arguing with his best friend- his head was pounding, his eyes were watering, and his runny nose and occasional hacking cough were probably making things pretty obvious. He also felt extremely tired, but wrote it off as a result from all their horseplay earlier.
"Hey, Joly! Yeah, no thanks, but I'm calling 'cause we were playing outside all day today with Courf and Jehan and 'Ferre didn't have a hood or hat or anything and he looks like he has a cold….yes, in this weather. Um, runny nose, watering eyes, the usual...no I'm pretty sure it's not hypothermia...or frostbite...yes...sure...thanks! Bye!" Enjolras hung up and turned to Combeferre. "Sorry, 'Ferre, but Joly says to be safe you should get plenty of rest. Oh, and fluids. So I guess we'll watch Frozen tomorrow night, okay?"
Combeferre weakly started to protest, but Enjolras silenced him with a sympathetic smile. "Doctor's orders, sorry."
"I'm a doctor too, y'know," mumbled Combeferre, but he let Enjolras walk him to his room.
"Man, Combeferre, you're really warm," Enjolras said, feeling his friend's forehead.
"I'm sure it's nothing that sleep can't fix," protested Combeferre wearily. He knew Enjolras was probably right, but now that he had mentioned it, sleeping seemed like a fantastic idea.
Enjolras clearly didn't believe the medical student, but he said nothing more on the subject. However, Combeferre's increasingly severe coughs kept him up, mostly from worry, all night long.