It had been a long day of fan making, and Daniel Feuilly began trudge back home to his small apartment. Little flakes of snow had begun to speckle his brown-blond hair and the picture he cradled in his arms.
"Dieu!" he swore, taking off his thin waistcoat to wrap it up, dropping the picture in the process. Tied up with a flimsy piece of black string, the drawing bounced and rolled down the snow covered street as Feuilly watched in horror. Snapping into action, he began chasing after it as if a very angry Enjolras was chasing him – a scenario he did not want to repeat. Finally catching up to it, Feuilly knelt down to pick it up, noting that the string had snapped. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the now-visible picture he had spent so long on.
Courfeyrac…Feuilly thought, gently picking up the picture and studying it. His eyes traveled up and down the sketch, taking in Courfeyrac's auburn hair and bright blue eyes, that didn't quite seem to do him justice on paper. Feuilly sighed, rolling the picture up. He stood up, wrapping his waistcoat around the picture again. He looked up, and came face-to-face with a living, breathing, very real Courfeyrac.
And smiling…Feuilly wistfully thought, although slightly surprised.
"I don't scare you, Daniel?" Courfeyrac smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back on a nearby lamp post.
"No, sorry," Feuilly smiled back shyly, heart thumping in his chest. Did he call me Daniel? "Quite the contrary."
"Really?" Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow, "And how so?"
"Oh, I don't know…" Feuilly vaguely said, clutching the picture tightly, drawing Courfeyrac's attention to it. Feuilly noticed this, and smiled, "A picture is worth a thousand words!"
Courfeyrac burst out laughing.
"Oh, you artsy types!" he said, giggling, "All about feelings!"
"Right," Feuilly shrugged, twitching, "Feelings."
"Well," Courfeyrac purred, voice lowering, "You know…the ones that you can't express in words…"
Where is he going with this? Feuilly thought, terrified.
"So," Courfeyrac's normal cheery voice jolted him back to reality. "Where are you off to?"
"Home," Feuilly replied, ducking around Courfeyrac, "Where else?"
"I don't know, you might have a date..." Courfeyrac smirked again.
"No!" Feuilly blushed, "I'm going home."
"Wait!" Courfeyrac called, grabbing Feuilly's hand.
"Yes?" Feuilly closed his eyes, breathing shallowly.
"Y-you're cold."
This was a surprise to Feuilly, he hadn't felt cold until Courfeyrac mentioned it.
"Oh, well, I – "
"Put on your waistcoat," Courfeyrac interrupted, snatching it from Feuilly's arms.
"No! Wait Co - !"
The drawing rolled open again and Courfeyrac examined it quietly.
"It's um…your…Christmas present." Feuilly lamely said.
"Of course…" Courfeyrac looked up at him, a smile playing on his lips, "And as for your waistcoat…"
"What about it?" Feuilly defensively said.
"It looks more like a ball of string," Courfeyrac commented politely, "Come home with me."
"Home with you?" Feuilly squeaked.
"Yes, you can borrow my waistcoats…"
"Oh, no, I can't do that – "
"But you will." Courfeyrac confirmed, grinning and draping an arm over Feuilly's shoulder, pulling him closer. Feuilly found himself snuggling closer to Courfeyrac, his sandy-brown hair slightly tickling Courfeyrac.
"So," Courfeyrac murmured, "About that date…"
The picture lay forgotten on the ground.