"What?" Enjolras winced as his friends' shouts of disbelief drew curious looks from the other patrons of the pub.

"Eponine Thenardier?"

"How many other Eponines do you know?"

"Is that Marius's Eponine?"

"She isn't my Eponine."

"Well, you introduced her."

"What were you doing with her?"

"She lived next door when we were students."

"Not you, I meant Enjolras!"

"Isn't she a bit out of your league?"

"How long have you been seeing her?" Courfeyrac asked with a frown.

By now Enjolras was bright red, seething with embarrassed anger and trying to fend off the questions with an irate glare.

Until now, Cosette had remained silent, gazing at Enjolras with narrowed eyes as if trying to see into his mind. She leaned across the table and said in what she hoped was a menacing voice; "Don't hurt her, she's been through a lot."

Enjolras blinked in surprise. "I won't," he said automatically, then shook his head. "This is all a big misunderstanding. I'm not dating Eponine."

"What do you mean?"

Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was why he didn't like talking about this stuff with his friends. They were so quick to judge and dissect everything into minute details.

"Cosette, it wasn't a real kiss."

"It looked real from where I was standing." Grantaire said quietly. Enjolras gave him a look of such loathing that Grantaire actually flinched, convinced his friend was going to hit him.

"You'd be good together, though." Cosette said, smiling. "You know, she's so wild, you could tame her, calm her down a bit. And she could get you to, well, loosen up."

The group remained completely still, waiting for Enjolras' response to Cosette's statement. None of them were sure if anybody had ever accused Enjolras of being uptight to his face before, and they were curious as to how he would react. Enjolras stared at her, eyebrows raised and opened his mouth to say something, closed it again and stood up. "Look," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I am not, nor do I intend to date Eponine. She is a friend, that is all. Can we talk about something else, please?" He looked pointedly at each member of the group in turn and sat down again. As he was bringing his drink to his lips, Bahorel said;

"So, you don't fancy Eponine then?"

Enjolras banged his glass down and strode angrily out of the bar, slamming the door as he left. Everyone watched him go, with varying degrees of amusement and concern.

Joly turned to Lesgles and held out his hand. Lesgles scowled and dropped a ten-pound note into it. He shrugged at Combeferre's quizzical gaze; "He bet me ten quid that Enjolras fancied Eponine."


As Enjolras headed home, he realised he had overreacted somewhat to his friends' teasing. He was well aware that it was because they had hit a raw nerve. He had been attracted to Eponine since the first time Marius had introduced her to the group.

When he had run into her, quite literally, outside the library earlier that day he had been rather pleased, especially when she fell into step beside him and began chatting about the new gallery that had opened in town. It had always been easy to fill the silence with Eponine. She wasn't like other girls he knew, who only seemed to talk about things he had no interest in, like shoes or celebrities, but Eponine had opinions about art, literature, politics, and could easily hold her own in the face of Enjolras' ego.

They had been walking and talking for just a few minutes and Enjolras was about to ask if she was coming to the bar, when suddenly Eponine stopped dead and her face drained of colour.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asked, alarmed. He put his hand on her arm to steady her; she looked as if she might pass out. He really hoped it wasn't something 'womany' as he was completely out of his depth in that area. Eponine whispered so quietly that he only just heard her; "Montparnasse."

He looked to where her eyes were locked on a beast of a man at the other end of the street. He had heard about Montparnasse and the unforgivable things he had done to Eponine when she lived with him years before. The guy was a good head shorter than he at least, but even from a block away, Enjolras was intimidated by the pure muscle bulging beneath his shirt. He gripped Eponine's arm tighter, feeling her begin to shake.

"I thought he was in prison?"

"So did I," Eponine replied, taking a step closer to Enjolras as if hoping he would protect her. "I don't want him to see me!"

"He can't come near you though, can he? What about the injunction?"

Eponine scoffed. "Do you really think he cares about a piece of paper? Quick, in here." She pulled Enjolras into the doorway of an empty shop.

"What are you doing?" He asked, as Eponine gripped the back of his jacket and buried her head in it.

"I'm hiding behind you. He doesn't know you, he won't bother you."

"And what exactly am I supposed to be doing lurking about in a doorway by myself?"

"I don't know, waiting for someone? Stop talking! He'll know I'm here!"

"How on earth would he know that? If it appears I'm talking to myself surely he's more likely to assume I've got some sort of mental illness or..." Eponine cut him off suddenly by spinning him round and crashing her lips onto his. She could hear the gruff, deep voice of Montparnasse getting closer as he yakked away on his phone and she could tell Enjolras wasn't going to be quiet without intervention.

Enjolras moaned in protest and tried to push her away, but Eponine put her hands in his hair and held his head firmly to keep herself hidden from view. She felt him pulling away so she tugged sharply on his curls, causing him to open his mouth in pain. Eponine slipped her tongue into his mouth and his body went rigid. He stayed stock still for several seconds, weighing up the situation in his mind. As if coming to a sudden decision, he grabbed Eponine's hips and brought their bodies flush against each other. She let out an involuntary squeak of pleasure at the contact. Heat pooled in his groin and he kissed her harder, surprising her with his skill and passion. As he moved his lips against hers, he awoke feelings in her that she had not felt for a long time, since she first met Montparnasse, in fact.

Montparnasse. Eponine opened her eyes, which she couldn't remember closing, and pushed Enjolras away gently. She chose to ignore the dilation of his pupils and the raggedness of his breathing, as she was sure she mirrored him, and quickly checked the street for her ex. Montparnasse was nowhere in sight and she let out a sigh of relief.

Not trusting herself to look at Enjolras, she straightened her bag on her shoulder and cleared her throat. He ran a hand through his messy hair, the curls she had just been gripping so tightly, and said; "So, that was..."

"Weird, yeah." She finished for him, embarrassed at the way her cheeks flushed. "Thanks for...the diversion. I'll see you later, ok?"

Then she was moving past him, impossibly close to him, and all he would have to do to stop her leaving their doorway was reach out a hand, touch her arm and pull her back. Who knows what might happen then?

But of course he didn't, she would reject him, laugh at him, tell him it hadn't meant anything. Wouldn't she?

By the time he stepped out of the doorway she had crossed the street and was climbing into a taxi, evidently putting as much distance between herself and their kiss as possible. He dithered for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of himself and what he should do next. He turned towards home, but knowing that he would drive himself crazy thinking about what happened in the doorway, he doubled back and headed for the bar, knowing that his friends would distract him from his thoughts.

So much for that, he thought now, as he trudged home. He decided to lock himself away in his room for the next day or so until his friends forgot all about this Eponine business. He wouldn't forget, though; the memory of the way she felt in his arms, and the taste of her still on his tongue would keep him awake all night.