"Anyway, we contact the Dean’s office and I’m sure we can get permission to arrange the event if we ask this early in advance,” Combeferre shivers slightly as he scribbles ‘call dean’ in sharpie on the skin just under his elbow, above his biology notes and the beginnings of a grocery list. “It’s not like he can reasonably say no; after all the discussion that’s going on and the bad press the university’s been getting, he needs to show that he’s conscious of the problem.”
"True." Enjolras nods, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. "But if he tries to censor us?"
Combeferre frowns. “Well, we always run the risk of…” He trails off as he feels warm fabric scratching at his shoulder. Glancing down, he sees Courfeyrac’s dark green hoodie draped over his arms, before he turns around to see Courfeyrac smiling behind him. “Wha-“
"You were shivering." Courfeyrac shrugs, tugging down the sleeves of his own long-sleeve shirt.
Frowning, Combeferre moves his hands to push the fabric off his shoulders. “Courfeyrac, I couldn-“
"Yes you can." Courfeyrac’s hand stills Combeferre’s, pressing lightly against his fingertips with a fond smile. "You know me, I like the cold. Besides, you’re the one who wore a short-sleeve shirt to an outdoor meeting."
Combeferre does not blush, and under no circumstances does his heart beat a little faster when Courfeyrac’s fingers slide over the back of his hand as he pulls away, nods at Enjolras, and walks back to where he was standing with Grantaire and Eponine. Combeferre watches him for a second, before turning back to Enjolras, trying to school his face down from a dazed smile. “Anyway, uh- what was I saying?”