Author's note: This was written because, what with one thing and another in the past couple days, my tumblr dash required emergency cuddling. Let's face it, this is basically the platonic equivalent of PWP but we all need to be self-indulgent occasionally. Besides, cuddling! And people being friends with their friends!

Disclaimer: Les Miserables is the property of the estate of Victor Hugo. No money is being made from this story.

Paris, winter 1831

Combeferre hunched his shoulders more deeply into his coat and picked up his pace, glancing warily up at the grey sky. He still had quite a ways to go until he reached his room and the clouds threatened to unleash a veritable torrent of freezing rain any moment. He bowed his head again and began to jog, calling unheard apologies as he jostled others just as keep to reach their homes as he.

The skies opened when he was barely half way there and he nearly slipped on the suddenly soaked pave stones. A miscalculated look around resulted in a lungful of rainwater and he had to pause to splutter until he could breathe properly once again. Pushing drenched bangs away from his face he pressed on, making certain this time to keep his face pointed at the ground. His back began to ache from the poor posture but better that than more inhaled rain.

By the time he finally made it to his building he was soaked through and his ever extremity felt numb. He fumbled for his keys, frozen fingers failing to react to the commands given them by his mind. Before he could sort himself out the door opened from the inside and a familiar face framed with glossy black curls peered out. Courfeyrac's expression immediately smoothed from worry into intense relief and he pulled Combeferre bodily into the room, closing the door firmly behind them. Without asking he stripped off Combeferre's outer coat and hat, handing them to the waiting Enjolras who draped them over chairs by the blazing fire. Combeferre, still stupid from the rain and the cold, did not react. The fire's warmth was beginning to seep into his skin and he could feel himself shivering, colder somehow inside than he had been out in the rain. Part of him knew the reason for this phenomenon but his mind was just sluggish enough that the explanation eluded him.

Courfeyrac returned to the door and drew Combeferre further into the room, the worried frown creeping back onto his face. Enjolras too looked concerned, his hands clenched the way they always did when he was faced with a problem he could not solve through immediate action.

"We should get you into dry clothes," Courfeyrac said, hand still clasping Combeferre's arm. Combeferre nodded, though he made no move to do as requested. Courfeyrac's words were reasonable, he knew, but a sudden lethargy had overtaken him and even lifting his feet to move seemed like phenomenal amounts of effort.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras exchanged concerned looks, then Courfeyrac let go of Combeferre's arm and began to unbutton his waistcoat. It took Combeferre a moment to realize his friend's intentions and he pulled away ineffectively.

"Be still," Enjolras said, crossing to help Courfeyrac. He put a warm hand on Combeferre's shoulder, causing a profound shiver to travel through him. Courfeyrac pulled the sodden waistcoat off of Combeferre while Enjolras got to work on the shirt. This too was quickly removed and tossed to dry by the fire. Courfeyrac left momentarily to fetch a towel while Enjolras looked hesitantly at Combeferre's trousers, clearly warring between the desire to remove his wet clothes and respect for his friend's modesty. Courfeyrac returned before Enjolras made up his mind and after a quick exchange of looks and clipped gestures Courfeyrac very matter of factly began to untie Combeferre's shoes.

Within a few minutes the two had coaxed Combeferre's still mostly unresponsive body out of his sodden trousers and socks and wrapped him in blankets as best they could. Combeferre was still shivering, weariness threatening to overwhelm him completely. They all but dragged him to the sofa by the fire and sat him down, one on either side, leaning into him to share their warmth. He tried to offer his thanks but his teeth were chattering still and the words did not come out as he had intended.

"Should he be warming up now?" Courfeyrac asked, wrapping the blanket more firmly around Combeferre's torso. A towel had been clumsily wrapped around his head to catch the water from his still wet hair.

"I'm not certain," Enjolras admitted, and if Combeferre had been more aware he would have been profoundly disturbed to hear those words from Enjolras' lips.

Courfeyrac shifted making as to rise. "I can get Joly," he began, but Enjolras reached over and pulled him back to his seat.

"Not in this weather. I would not send someone with as hearty a constitution as Bahorel out in such a storm, much less you or, God forbid Joly."

"If the rain did not kill him the worry might," Courfeyrac agree, relaxing back into place. The slight humor left his voice almost immediately as he added, "Enjolras he's still cold."

Combeferre, following along as best he could though his thoughts were still foggy with cold, tried to interject but his teeth still did not allow for coherent speech. He recognized his condition at last, though its scientific name eluded him at present, and though he could not recall precisely the proper treatment prescribed for such cases he knew they were missing a crucial step.

Enjolras took a breath and let it out slowly, forcefully shoving his nerves to the side as he always did when called upon to make important decisions. "Tea," he said firmly. "Perhaps warmth inside will help."

Courfeyrac jumped to his feet and hurried to heat the water as Enjolras pulled Combeferre closer to him to make up for the sudden lack of Courfeyrac's body heat. Combeferre's eyes drooped closed and when they opened once more Courfeyrac was pushing a scalding cup of liquid into his hands.

"Drink this," he urged, keeping his hands on the cup and guiding it to Combeferre's lips. Combeferre did as he was told, violent shivers coursing through him as the boiling water made contact with his mouth. Courfeyrac, worried, tried to pull the cup away but Combeferre resisted, craving nothing more than the sudden influx of warmth. He took another swallow of tea and then a third, tongue burning from the abuse. The shivering slowed somewhat and Combeferre gripped the cup more tightly. Courfeyrac settled back down next to him, his solid warmth working at last to relieve the chill deep in Combeferre's bones.

Slowly the tea did its job and Combeferre relaxed into the weariness of comfort. Enjolras removed the cup from his hands when he finished his tea and set it aside, leaving it on the floor so as not to leave his place by Combeferre's side. Once again Combeferre's eyes fell closed, energy drained completely. His held fell to one side, landing on Enjolras' shoulder. Carefully Enjolras adjusted his position to make a more comfortable pillow.

He and Courfeyrac too eventually succumbed to sleep, the stress of the evening having taken its toll. As the fire died to embers in the grate the three slept, Combeferre leaning on Enjolras and Courfeyrac curled up against Combeferre. Enjolras had one arm around Combeferre's shoulder, hand resting against Courfeyrac's shoulder. Outside the rain continued relentlessly but the racket did not wake any of the three, safe and content in each others' presence.