From a tumblr headcanon by textsfromumbridge and drinkwithmebarricadeboys. Probably not what either of you intended, but that was where it started.
Two years ago, Courfeyac's birthday had resulted in Grantaire and Enjolras going to the emergency room.
Last year, Enjolras had missed the party due to being arrested at a protest that morning. Courf didn't hold it against him (much) because Gabriel caught up with the birthday boy and Bahorel when they landed in the jail cell next to his later that night. No candles, but the amused arresting officer gave them donuts and coffee.
Tentatively, Enjolras thought his luck might have broken this year. They had rented the backroom of the Corinthe for a night of drinking and Karaoke. Alain Combeferre had planned it, thinking it might be safer if they all stayed in one place. He had forgotten, however, that there were multiple definitions of 'safe' and none of them ever applied to Gauvain de Courfeyac.
Jumping onto the makeshift stage, Courfeyac's grin was a bit too wide and his birthday hat at too jaunty of an angle to make anyone feel comfortable. "Let's get in one or two more duets before we call it a night." He shook Jehan's fedora menacingly and pulled out two slips of paper.
He barely opened the papers before calling out. "Oh, look. How convenient. Eponine and Enjolras. The only two people who haven't sung!"
On hearing his name, panic flooded and burned his bloodstream. "No, I can't-It's not-" Enjolras stuttered.
"I'll tell you what it is," Courfeyrac beamed, almost leaping off the stage. He threw an arm over each of their shoulders. "It is my birthday. Which you missed last year."
"I didn't miss it at all!" Eponine protested. "Why am I being dragged into this?"
"Eponine, while you are frighteningly good with birthdays," Courf drawled, "You are far less good at securing your agenda." His voiced dropped to a whisper, just for her and Enjolras. "Unless you want everyone to know what you've been doodling in the margins with little hearts around it." Her cheeks pinked. "I thought not." He smirked and his triumph was sweetened by Enjolras's bewildered look. Eponine just did not blush, but even her ears were turning red. The young man's distraction made it easy for Courfeyrac to grab his elbow in a steel grip and manhandle him towards the stage. Eponine trailed after, not quite meeting anyone's eyes. Enjolras frowned. Meekness was not a good look for her and was one he hadn't seen much since high school.
Eponine herself was trying not to flashback to sophomore year. It was such a childish thing to do, tracing the curves of his name in the margins. She should have known better, but if Courf thought he could blackmail her and get away with it he had another thing coming. Something involving superglue or Sriracha or pink hair dye. The idiot birthday boy nodded at Grantaire in the makeshift sound booth and the Karaoke machine pulled up a song. Eponine rolled her eyes at the selection, grabbing a microphone. Apparently Courf had been rifling through her iPod as well as her agenda. Enjolras, however, just stared at the screen for a moment. "This is from-"
"Yes, one of your favorites, I believe?"
"The sociologic and political themes are timeless," he shot back at Courf, blinking under the stage lights. Snickers broke out across the room. Enjolras ignored the peanut gallery, still focused on the computer screen. "But this song is from a father to a daughter."
Grantaire stepped out of the little sound booth and made his way back to the table. "What's the matter? Can't see yourself in a familial relationship with-" Courf punched Grantaire in the shoulder as he passed and talked over Grantaire's yelp. "The lyrics are fairly generic and its my birthday."
"But the authorial intent is clearly-"
Grantaire shouted, "The Author is Dead!" as he collapsed into his chair. He was immediately pelted by napkins and boos from Jehan and Prouvaire.
"Enjolras has a point," Eponine said, raising her voice over the hissing writers. "He could argue that the rest of the musical is internal evidence rather than context, in which case it isn't a question of authorial intent at all, whatever we think about New Criticism."
Enjolras looked at her with gratitude before turning back to their audience. "Yes. That. Internal evidence." Eponine smirked at him, graciously tipping her head in acknowledgement. The stage lights were ridiculously hot for a makeshift stage in a dive bar. She watched Enjolras rolling up his shirt sleeves, snapping the cuffs back with irritation. She understood. The whole situation had started off ridiculous and showed no signs of recovery. Jehan and Prouvaire had already started shouting at Grantaire, Courfeyrac, and even each other. Eponine leaned over and whispered, "You've never set foot in a literary theory class."
"But you have," he whispered back. "I know you think that 'Author is dead' stuff is crap."
"It's not crap, but it does strip the artist of meaning and agency. It can be a useful exercise but at the end of the day," she trailed off into a shrug. "I don't like the extreme version of it. No one likes being disenfranchised."
"Disenfranchised." Enjolras cocked his head to the side and smiled a little. "I hadn't thought of it that way."
"You hadn't thought about it at all," she volleyed back, but it was softened with a smile. The light banter was easy with Enjolras. It was so easy that the next thought tumbled out before she could catch it. "You know, Courfeyrac has a point, too. The words work for many kinds of love, and I always thought this song could make a nice duet." Enjolras made her too honest.
"Really?" The blond perused the lyrics again, curls falling around his face as artfully as ever. "Maybe." He glanced back at her with undisguised curiosity. It had been a while since they'd just talked. "I didn't know you were familiar with it."
Familiar? It was a regular on her shower rotation but that was the last thing she wanted him to know. Deflect, she thought. Turn it around and make him talk about himself for a change. "I should have guessed you would like this show. It's about as political as musicals get."
He sighed. "It isn't just the politics-" He stopped as a bread roll sailed through the air between them.
Feuilly had joined the debate with Jehan and Prouvaire, which had devolved into throwing balled-up napkins, bread rolls, and the occasional ice cube. Courfeyrac looked ready to throw a tantrum. "It's still my birthday and I want to hear them sing!" For his contribution, he got hit in the forehead by a bottle cap. Eponine didn't even bother to whisper anymore when she said, "I think he's up to something."
"Especially since your name wasn't even in the damn hat." Enjolras was fiddling with the screen, trying to find a way to change the song. Eponine swore under her breath, and was unable to compose her face before he gave up on the machine. Off her look, he added, "I saw you palm your own paper and stick in your shoe. It's easier to see when you've had a few drinks."
Gabriel's eyes were bright and teasing as he met her gaze, just like they had been so long ago, and he was much too close. With a huff, Eponine sharply turned back to the chaos in front of them. She really didn't want to do this-not with this song and certainly not with Enjolras. Courfeyrac was rolling his eyes and appeared ready to give up when Grantaire opened his mouth one more time.
"Sing the damn song and I'll stop drinking at meetings for a month."
Silence fell. Napkins and bread rolls dropped onto the table. Eponine's heart plunged in her chest because there was no getting out of this now.
Surely enough, Enjolras picked up the microphone with his eyes locked on Grantaire, who nodded once in a silent promise for reasons of his own. To Eponine, Enjolras asked, "Alternate the verses?"
"Yes, but follow my lead at the bridge."
Some joker - probably Grantaire - turned down the lights in the rest of the room, and Enjolras could barely see their friends for the glare. That made the situation feel oddly familiar-stage, lights, microphone, words. Different delivery, but honestly not that terrifying. He had done his turns in church choir before he had split permanently from both his parents and organized religion. He flicked the switch on the mic, took a deep breath, then froze. One new factor he hadn't counted on. One question left as the languid violin introduction began. There was no time for discussion so he went with his gut.
"I'll start-"
"You start-"
They spoke simultaneously. Startled, he looked her way and saw the same surprise mirrored back at him. Gabriel knew instinctively that the first verse was his and the words of the second verse could only be for Eponine. It felt like he'd always known, but how had she?
Then he had to sing.
"Suddenly I see
Suddenly it starts
Can two anxious hearts beat as one?
Yesterday I was alone
Today you walk beside me.
Something still unclear,
Something not yet here has begun."
Lights and microphones and finding truth in words, even if they weren't his own. He stepped to the side, letting Eponine take over. She was looking at him sideways with drawn eyebrows and crossed arms, however, and almost missed her cue.
"Suddenly the world
Seems a different place
Somehow full of grace, full of light."
Eponine's voice had a sweetness he hadn't expected, made more poignant by her closed posture. As she sang more, she stood a little straighter and her voice warmed.
"How was I to know that so much hope was held inside me?
What has passed is gone
Now we journey on through the night."
It was lovely, the way she opened up. He found it easier to hear facets of Eponine in the words, even facets of himself.
"How was I to know at last that happiness can come so fast?
Trusting me the way you do
I'm so afraid of failing you."
A soft touch on his wrist told him to pause. He hardly heard her voice over the sensation of her fingers brushing his pulse point.
"Just a child who cannot know that danger follows where I go
There are shadows everywhere
And memories I cannot share."
Something in those words must have made her feel vulnerable, for her hand started to slip away. Enjolras grabbed it like a lifeline. She always slipped away when she felt vulnerable and he'd had enough of that for a lifetime. Startled, she looked at him and Enjolras didn't look away.
"Nevermore alone,
Nevermore apart."
He pulled her hand to his chest. She pressed her palm to his pounding heart as he continued.
"You have warmed my heart like the sun."
Their fingers twined together, still resting against his heart. Though he felt he could sing any of the words, a quick nod passed the song back to Eponine.
"You have brought the gift of life
And love so long denied me."
He squeezed her hand and she nodded. They sang the last lines together.
"Suddenly I see
What I could not see;
Something suddenly
Has begun."
The cheers and cat calls of their friends were distant compared to the warmth of her hand. Enjolras clicked off the mic and let it drop to his side, hardly daring to breath even if it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the the room. Eponine stepped back with a frown and he released her hand, still dazed. She turned to go, but stopped when feedback screeched through the speakers. With the spell shattered, he lunged for the microphone she was desperately trying to turn off.
"No, it's on the bottom, not the side-"
"Yes! I can see that!"
They struggled for a minute, the speakers wailing the entire time.
"The switch is stuck. What happened?"
"I don't need your help! Let go!"
And wasn't that Eponine all over? He grabbed her by the waist and dragged her back behind the mic line to stop the noise. "Stop being so stubborn!" They collided with a mic stand and almost went over. She ripped the batteries out and threw them at his chest.
"Stop being such an oblivious, high-handed asshole!"
"That doesn't even make sense!" He shouted back before he noticed the tears in her eyes. "Eponine?"
Her sniffling and hiccups were the only sound in the room. He took a slow step towards her. "Eponine? What's wrong?"
She squared her shoulders like she was facing a firing squad. "Can we talk?"
AN: Part 2 not written but coming soon. Probably. o_O