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1.
The first time Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre, they were kids, and kiss-chase was all the rage on the playground. Combeferre was seven and Courfeyrac was six, and though kiss-chase wasn't exactly Combeferre's game, he'd do anything for the cute younger boy with unruly curls and cherubic cheeks.
Five minutes into the game and, much to Combeferre's delight, he hadn't been kissed by anybody yet. He'd taken to hiding out behind one of the rubbish bins, peeking up through the lid to keep an eye on the other children, ready on the balls of his feet to dart away if he had to.
His hideout was a good one, he'd decided - that was until gentle hands grabbed his shoulders. A small squeal escaped his lips, and he turned around with flushed cheeks and fogged-up glasses to find Courfeyrac standing before him.
"H-hi," Combeferre stammered, weaving his way around Courfeyrac's grip to reach up and push his glasses back up his nose. "Um..."
"Were you hiding?" Courfeyrac asked with a frown.
"No.”
“Oh. Okay,” Courfeyrac replied, though he was still suspicious. “Well, I'm 'it', by the way. Enjolras just kissed me. So can I kiss you?”
Combeferre almost tripped over his own feet. “What?”
“I said: So can I kiss you?”
“W-why are you asking? I thought kissing was the point of the game.”
Courfeyrac stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers and shuffled from one foot to the other; this behaviour was so not-Courfeyrac that Combeferre couldn't help but smile a little. “Well, yeah, but I want to make sure it's okay with you first. You can't just go around kissing people if they don't want to be kissed.”
“Oh. Okay. Um...yeah? You can kiss me.”
Courfeyrac's smirk was back in seconds. “Good.”
He leaned forward, gently placing one hand against Combeferre's cheek to keep them both steady, and in the briefest of movements he pressed their lips together.
The kiss was innocent, completely chaste, and Courfeyrac drew back from it with a furrowed brow. “...that was weird. A good weird, I think, but still weird,” he mused. “Thanks for the kiss, 'Ferre!”
2.
The next time they kissed was ten years later, when Jehan and Joly instigated a rather tipsy game of spin the bottle. There was only six of them – Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras (who'd probably had a little bit too much to drink), Jehan, Joly, and Joly's new boyfriend, Bossuet – all sat in a circle, an empty beer bottle taking pride of place in the centre. So far Jehan had kissed Enjolras, Enjolras had kissed Combeferre, Combeferre had kissed Bossuet, and Bossuet had spent at least three minutes making out with Joly for his turn. After the group's banter escalated to rowdy, Joly and Bossuet separated to opposite sides of the circle and Joly had to kiss Courfeyrac.
When it was his turn to spin, Courfeyrac took the bottle in his hands and rolled it clumsily across the floor; a loud cheer erupted from the group when it landed on Combeferre.
The pair both knelt up, Combeferre shuffling closer to the centre of the circle and Courfeyrac opting to just lean forward on his hands instead. Their kiss was fumbling hands on Combeferre's part and wet lips on Courfeyrac's, Courfeyrac practically throwing himself at Combeferre and smashing their lips together sloppily. Combeferre was a little more than taken aback, blinking back his shock rapidly and praying he could pass his rosy cheeks off as the result of a little too much beer.
Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre for what felt like a millennia, their lips becoming pliant and parting slightly as time stood still and neither showed any sign of stopping. Eventually Courfeyrac pulled away, though unlike their first kiss, he pulled away with a smirk.
“Still weird,” he murmured, quiet enough that only Combeferre could hear it. “But still a good weird. Thanks.”
3.
The third time Courfeyrac kissed Combeferre was during their first year of university, at a rally that had gotten a little bit out of hand and had resulted in a visit from the cops. Everybody had scattered the second sirens sounded, Enjolras running off holding firmly onto Grantaire's hand and the rest of the newly-formed Les Amis de L'ABC all heading towards their homes. Combeferre had tried to follow Joly, his flatmate, back to their apartment, but ended up losing the smaller man within the crowd.
It was as he made the decision to follow the rest of the crowd that a strong hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him sharply backwards. A dozen things raced through his mind then, most of them alibis or general excuses to weave his way out of another overnight stay in jail.
What he didn't expect was to be dragged into an alleyway by Courfeyrac.
“Courf, w-what are you doing?”
“No time,” Courfeyrac panted, and only then did Combeferre notice the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead and beneath the collar of his shirt. “They caught me. Well, almost. I need you to bail me out later.”
Combeferre nodded bleakly. “Yeah. Sure.”
“You're a star, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac beamed, his eyes wide with adrenaline.
“Don't go doing anything stupid, Courfeyrac,” Combeferre reminded him with a low tone – a tone that nobody questioned, because there was no compromising with Combeferre when he took that tone.
In lieu of an answer, Courfeyrac surged forwards, kissing Combeferre firmly on the mouth with more emotion than Combeferre could even comprehend, before legging it in the direction he'd come from.
“What the heck was that for?” Combeferre murmured, though it'd be a while before he ever got a proper response.
4.
There wasn't such a huge gap between their third kiss and their fourth – a few months, tops. It was finals week, and Combeferre was, well, a bit of a mess. It wasn't like him at all; he'd usually pride himself on knowing his limits and being able to take care of himself just fine, but in the recent months he'd found himself...distracted, per se. In the moments he should have been studying, he instead found himself thinking back to unruly curls, cherubic cheeks, and the signature grin that twelve years later still made the butterflies in his stomach come back to life with a vengeance.
And so on the morning of his first exam, Combeferre was all over the place. In the space of three hours he'd managed to drink nine cups of coffee and read through two thirds of his notes, simultaneously failing to feed or even dress himself. Courfeyrac – who'd been staying with Combeferre and Joly for reasons that were still unknown to either of them – wondered drowsily into the kitchen that morning to find Combeferre half asleep on the counter.
“Everything alright, Ferre?” he yawned, flicking on the kettle switch and making an awful racket getting a mug down from the cupboard.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, yeah everything's great. Just...tired. Really tired.”
Courfeyrac raised his eyebrows, leaving his tea abandoned and instead placing himself in front of Combeferre until their eyes met at the same level.
“Your finals start today, don't they?”
“So do yours,” Combeferre replied almost accusingly.
Courfeyrac tutted. “Yes, but I'm not driving myself stupid worrying about it.”
“It's your fault I'm worrying,” Combeferre mumbled, though if Courfeyrac heard then he didn't react.
That was the extent of their conversation that morning, up until Combeferre was about to leave. With one foot out of the door and the other not far behind, Combeferre was stopped by a tug on the strap of his satchel. Within moments Courfeyrac had spun him around and pressed a quick peck to his lips.
“For luck?” he supplied, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Now, go get an 'A' for me, yeah?”
5.
The fifth and final pre-relationship kiss between the two happened almost completely out of the blue – though not as the others had, for fun or amusement on Courfeyrac's part.
Joly was out on date night with Bossuet, meaning Combeferre and Courfeyrac were, for the first time in a long time, left alone in their apartment. Courfeyrac had recently invested in a Netflix account, and so the pair found themselves curled up on their respective ends of the sofa while some romance movie played on the television.
They didn't really talk much at first, but soon Courfeyrac found himself becoming deeply invested in the movie, and didn't hesitate to shuffle closer to Combeferre for comfort. It wasn't unusual for the two of them to cuddle – they'd been best friends since childhood, after all – but that night, something felt different.
Which was explained when, as the credits began to roll, Courfeyrac leaned up, cupping Combeferre's with his hands, and kissed him.
The kiss wasn't playful as the others had been. No, this kiss was soft, slow, sincere, and Combeferre couldn't stop his heart from hammering earnestly against his ribcage.
But seconds later, the place in which Courfeyrac's lips had settled was replaced by air, stale and cold and so vehement it made Combeferre's insides recoil.
“I'm so sorry, Combeferre, I-” was all Combeferre heard of Courfeyrac before the other man left the apartment, the slam of the door behind him saying all that needed to be said.
+ 1
But Combeferre wasn't one to give up easily. Socks and shoes be damned, he was out of that apartment and on Courfeyrac's trail in a flash.
“Courf, wait!” he called. “Courf?”
He ran until he was seven steps from the other man, six steps, three steps-
The next few moments passed in a blur. Courfeyrac was sorry for kissing Combeferre so abruptly, sorry if that hadn't been what Combeferre had wanted, if he'd made Combeferre uncomfortable or ruined their friendship. Combeferre was sorry – sorry for never kissing him back, for never showing Courfeyrac that, goddammit, he was in love with him.
“You...you love me?” Courfeyrac stammered, speechless for what quite possibly could have been the first time in his life.
Combeferre nodded, fighting to hold back a smile. “I love you, Courf.”
“Holy crap, you love me.” Courfeyrac was laughing now, a glorious sound that echoed off of the tiled walls and vibrated through Combeferre's entire being.
This time, Combeferre did not hesitate at all to throw his arms around the other man's neck and kiss him with a billion pent-up kisses that should've been shared a long, long time ago.
So on the third floor of a university apartment building, underneath the dingy lighting and rotting ceiling, Combeferre kissed Courfeyrac for the first time. And it was nothing short of perfect.