DISCLAIMER: I do not own Les Miserables or any of these characters sadly.
The group had gathered at Enjolras and Éponine's flat all dressed up for the evening. They were going to Musichetta's first leading role at the opera and her boyfriends, Joly and Bossuet, insisted that they all go together. Apparently, with Joly constantly going on about some strange medical condition he could contract from the car air conditioner and Bossuet's exceptional luck, they weren't sure they would make it in time or in one piece.
Enjolras' knuckles rapped the bathroom door three times. "Éponine, we're gonna be late! Hurry up!"
"I'm almost done!" she shouted back from the inside.
He groaned impatiently in response.
Courfeyrac took his free time to wander around his friends' humble abode. It wasn't much. The flat only consisted of one bedroom, one bathroom and a lofty living space. A framed poster of Coldplay's Viva La Vida cover art was hung on one side of the exposed red brick wall (Enjolras insisted that he only liked the cover art, but Éponine once caught him singing to Lost! when he thought she wasn't home). On the other side, there was a poster of exploding TARDIS that Éponine had cherished since her third year of university. A few pictures were scattered around console tables and sideboards. There were graduation photos and group shots…
The problem was that there was no picture of just the group leader and his firecracker girlfriend together. Éponine's graduation photo was of her and Jehan in the robe and cap, grinning ear-to-ear (He was the one who took the picture that time). Next to it was Enjolras' graduation from law school which was taken candidly when he stood back as his fellow graduates (including Marius and Courfeyrac) conversed. The closest they got was having their arms around each other's shoulders on the group photo in Nice, but that was what everyone was doing there.
"Do you guys really not have a photo of just the two of you?" Courfeyrac mused.
Enjolras merely shrugged.
"You're joking!" Bossuet leapt out of his seat (and stumbled) to look at one of the pictures. They proceeded to snicker at the memories of Combeferre's surprise party at Café Musain last year.
"Seriously, you have been together for –" he stopped in his tracks, "How long have you been together?"
To be honest, Enjolras wasn't sure how long they had been together. Hell simply froze over and they were the only two people left standing, he supposed.
Enjolras had always liked to argue. At first, it was to stand up for what he believed in. But he had gotten so good that he began to enjoy it –need it, even. Combeferre and Grantaire were usually the ones to cater to his needs.
But that was before he knew what Éponine was capable of.
When Enjolras based his arguments on logic, Éponine based hers on conscience. He thought, she felt. He was the head, she was the heart. Their arguments were calm, but had a deadly undertone beneath. It was exactly like what an inner battle would look like.
One night, the marble cracked, however. Éponine was getting on his nerves and he snapped like a rubber band. He was pissed at her… so pissed that he shut her up with a hard kiss instead.
The next time they argued, they ended up fucking in the backseat of his car.
It took their friends a while to find out that they were together. In fact, if Combeferre hadn't walked in on them 'wrestling' for their opinions one night, they probably wouldn't even know to this day. They weren't at all conventionally romantic (They hardly ever held hands in public, for God's sakes!), but they were happy. So, the rest of the group decided to leave it at that.
"You don't remember, do you?" Marius assumed.
Enjolras didn't know where to count their relationship from to begin with. It was a few months after they all met Éponine, but that was about it. One moment, they were sleeping together to quit arguing, and the next, they realized that they wouldn't want to be anywhere else –with anyone else.
"It's complicated. Besides, Éponine and I never made a big deal over something so trivial," he replied.
That comment wasn't entirely meant to be a jab at Marius, but Enjolras could see him twitch for a moment. Marius was the kind of guy who would celebrate the 'monthly' anniversary. Enjolras didn't even know there was such thing. Shouldn't anniversaries be celebrated annually? After all, that was the whole point of it…
"No offence," he added.
"Every couple is different; it's totally fine," Cosette brushed off with an understanding smile. Contrary to popular beliefs, she was the one more independent one in the relationship.
The bathroom door suddenly rattled and opened. Éponine emerged in a black fitted dress with a dangerously low V-shaped neckline. A silver belt wrapped her small waist, accentuating the curve of her hips. Her dark tresses were pulled up in a sleek twist. In her hand, she clutched a red purse that matched the color of her lipstick.
Joly was the first one to speak up. "I'm trying to make this sound as PG-13 as possible and not give you the wrong impression, but…"
"Bloody hell, Ép!" Grantaire finished the sentence for him.
"Exactly," Bahorel nodded, still gaping at her.
The room echoed with chuckles and expressions of agreement.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she grinned innocently.
"Well, shall we?" Enjolras grabbed his car key and opened the door of his flat.
Combeferre lead the way out and down the stairs with Éponine trailing the farthest behind, half-waiting for Enjolras to lock the door.
"Nice necklace," he glanced at the round-shaped pendant hanging on her chest.
"You got it for me."
"I have a nice taste."
She chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself, Apollo,"
Jehan, a few steps ahead of her, overheard the conversation and tapped Grantaire's shoulder. "Are they for real?!" he whispered.
"I think that's his way of saying 'you look beautiful'," he smirked in amusement.
"Unbe-fucking-lievable," the young poet mumbled.
"Not all of us are like you, Allen Ginsberg," Éponine chimed in, catching up with them.
"I'm not Allen Ginsberg!" Jehan whined.
"Alright, then, John Keats. No need to get your boxer in a twist," she walked past him, tapping his cheek softly.
"Much better," he smiled.
Éponine found herself leaning against the car, palm open. "Keys?"
"It's okay, I'll drive," Enjolras shook his head, clutching the keys in his hand.
"We're in a rush; I'll drive."
"You drive like a lunatic."
"Well, at least this lunatic will get us there in time. You, on the other hand, drive like an 80-year-old woman!"
"No, I don't!" he scowled, "And besides, at least I will get us there in one piece!"
"Guys, guys, guys. Come on," Combeferre jumped in. "Should I drive, then, to make it fair?"
"No." they both answered in unison, glaring daggers at them.
He put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, then. Settle it rationally and make it quick, for God's sake. We don't wanna miss the show,"
"You're right," Enjolras gave in, "We are responsible adults. We shouldn't bickering like children,"
"There's only one way to settle this."
Thus, they did what every responsible adult would in their position.
Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Éponine laughed victoriously as her boyfriend tossed her his car keys.
"This isn't over, Athena," he said between his gritted perfect teeth.
She smirked devilishly. "Don't worry, you'll get your payback soon enough."
A/N: Hello! This is the first fanfic I've posted. It's basically just what I wrote after being attack by all the beautifully heart-wrenching fics I was reading. So I decided to write something lighter (to cure the heartache. Kind of.) Anyway, don't be shy to drop by and tell me what you think because I would LOVE to hear from you. Thank you for reading!