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He’s lying in bed with his boyfriend on his right and a box of tissues to his left.
Joly sighs. “Courf, I told you to not kiss me when I have a cold.”
“You said I couldn’t kiss you on the mouth,” Courfeyrac says with a smirk. “According to that rule, I can kiss you anywhere else and still be safe from your germs.” He gives Joly a peck on the cheek.
“That’s not how viruses work. You could still catch my cold from just being around me.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t care if I get sick.” Courfeyrac moves down, pressing his lips to Joly’s jaw, then to his neck.
Joly shivers, obviously enjoying this but trying not to show it.
“This cold’s really got you down, and I’m just trying to cheer you up. Because for a guy whose name is ‘jolly’ with one L, you aren’t being very jolly.”
The joke about his name makes Joly crack a smile. “You’re sure you don’t care if you catch my cold?”
“If it means getting to kiss you, it’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Courfeyrac pulls at the sleeve of Joly’s purple T-shirt. “So, can we get these clothes out of the way?”
After the shirt is gone, Joly’s cold is quickly forgotten.