A/N: Plot, what plot? Augh, I meant to have this chapter be slightly more important in the (admittedly almost nonexistent) plot line, but then tumblr struck. And then I just needed to write banter. Lots of banter. And hair. Next update will have more relevance, I promise. Also, if you've got a hankering for a specific situation in this fic, just tell me the prompt, cause I may or may not be hitting a road block.


Summary: In Grantaire's honest and quite inebriated opinion, the best part about Enjolras falling for that scruffy gamine was that the poor girl in question seemed to have no idea. [Modern AU Enjolras/Éponine—Frustration is the name of this game]


Loveless

Part IV


Éponine and Enjolras made a terrifying pair, even if Éponine herself wasn't quite aware of it.

It was fairly easy to see how Enjolras would be intimidating; with a mouth that appeared to have no other setting than 'scowl' and a glare that would make a nun wonder what she'd done wrong, he was easily one of the more frightening of the ABC tutors. Except for the fact he was so disturbingly beautiful that any nun stricken into silence by his stare quickly start to rethink her vows at the mere arch of his cheek-bones. The man was beautiful, even with his title as marble prince.

Needless to say, Comferre and Grantaire were all too happy to make fun of him about any and all things related to the subject of their leader's face.

Yet, Éponine's fear-inducing powers laid at a bit more of a latent level.

In fact, on the surface she seemed like quite a normal woman, if a little terribly shy. But the boys soon learned that the only reason she kept mumbling into her scarf was because if anybody actually heard what she was saying, they would likely piss themselves. More than a few times they found her talking to rough looking men lurking outside of the café, but as they prepared themselves to go assist—or awkwardly attempt chivalry that would most likely backfire in the case of Enjolras—the shady characters would pale suddenly before the slight, mousy woman and rush off as if they had the devil itself chasing them.

Heck, Chetta had mentioned once that she was worried about some gang activity nearby. While the ABC tutors had conferred on how best to deal with the issue in a democratic way, Eponine had walked outside and tied her rattiest grey scarf in an odd knot on the door handle. Over the course of the next few weeks, crime in that section of the city dropped to rate unheard off. Not to mention the rather strange trinkets that had been let on the doorstep from then on. She'd given the rolex to Bossuet, but just dumped the rest of stuff in Chetta's tip jar. To the ABC tutors, it was like their suspicions had not only been confirmed but initialed and signed with in her own chicken-scratch signature.

So when they found the gun lying inconspicuously in Éponine's bulky purse next to her chewed up pens, it didn't come as much of a surprise as it should have.

Grantaire blinked a few times, attempting to shake himself into soberness. When he became sober enough to realize that he would never be sober enough, he cleared his throat and said loudly, "There is a gun in my hands and if everybody values their lives they should probably take it before I become too drunk to forget it's not a party shooter!"

As everyone else fell silent, Bossuet grabbed the weapon and Courfeyrac grabbed it from him before it could accidentally go off. Éponine rolled her eyes and took it back roughly, which earned her a cringe and a unanimous clatter of 'no-don't-shoot!'

"Who was looking in my purse?" she asked calmly, stuffing the gun in one of the many folds of her sweater. Comferre watched it go with a slightly curious look. No one else deemed it safe to answer.

The chime by the door gave a jangle as a man walked in. Grantaire pointed to him without hesitation. "Him. Kill him."

Enjolras raised a brow as he took in the sight of the cowering members of his groups. He paused a few seconds, taking off his soaked jacket, before sighing and looking over to Éponine. "What'd you do this time?"

"Nothing."

"There is a weapon of mass destruction hidden on her person so I think you should strip search her yes all in favor say—ah!" Grantaire rubbed his injured arm with great disdain as he grumbled lowly, making sure the glowering woman next to him heard absolutely nothing.

Éponine rolled her eyes. Babies. The lot of them. Her little brothers could take them with his hands tied behind his back. Even if she didn't really know where and what racket her little brothers were running at the moment. Aware that Enjolras was still watching her curiously, because his damn judging look was something she knew all too well, Éponine shrugged innocently. "They freaked out about something stupid." Another thought hit her and her eyes narrowed. "And I don't need to explain myself to you."

A groan rang through the café as the ABC tutors recognized the look passing their leaders face. With a curl of his lip, Enjolras replied stiffly, "Well, if you would refrain from abusing them, then maybe I wouldn't be so concerned."

"Abusing them?" Éponine gasped, clenching her fists. "I—you have no idea what you're even talking about. Just because you let them get away with whatever the hell they want—"

"Like hell I do," Enjolras cut in, his full lips curling into his signature scowl. "I disciple them as needed—not scare them out of their minds. That's not how you treat people, Madame."

Joly winced. Ooh, he was playing that card. Chetta clicked her tongue and began passing out drinks, her hands moving quickly to also collect the bets.

("Am I the only one who gets the feeling we're their kids?"

"Of course we are. Now let me hear this out, I got fifty bucks riding that this is the week they fuck.")

Flushing, Éponine raised herself to her full height. "I, monsieur, am no madame and would like it if you—"

"Gun. Down her shirt. Thought you should know," Comferre interjected with a sip of his overly foamy coffee. As both glares turned to him, he smacked his lips and added, "Her bosom is a thing of magic, I can't even see the outline."

"You were looking?" Éponine looked about to burst.

Comferre smiled innocently. "Of course. It's a very nice bosom."

Enjolras intervened before more damage could be done, sighing, "Shut up before I let her kill you and yes, Éponine—"As his intimidating gaze found her Eponine frowned and jut out her chin stubbornly. "Do you even have a license to carry it?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Fine."

Éponine blinked.

As the café went silent, Enjolras sank down in a large armchair with a groan. Soon the sound of tapping keys rang out, just a bit too loudly for the space, as if the entire group were collectively holding their breaths. Éponine fumbling with her scarf, her fingers curling around the soft yellow material in an effort to convince herself this was real.

Slowly, she made her way over the chair, peeking over the top to stare down at the mop of blonde hair. Almost too carefully, Éponine asked, "Are you sure?"

Enjolras didn't even look up, still staring determinedly at the screen. "It's for your protection, isn't it?" She made a small noise of agreement, thinking of how skeevy some of the places she slept in nowadays ran. "Well, I can't tell you to give it up and if you think it helps, then there's nothing I can do to stop that."

She leaned further over the large, worn in chair, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you'd throw a tantrum."

"Don't have the right to."

"Oh. Thanks."

Another few minutes passed with Éponine resting against the back of the armchair, looking thoughtful. She knew well enough that he was seething on the inside, his ideas on gun ownership more than a little clear since the barricades had been transformed from a peaceful protest into an all-out scuffle against armed security and decidedly unarmed students. She wondered if she should push this a little more.

Try and get him to put in writing that he was bending on his ideals for her, just a little bit. Use it as blackmail when he eventually realized how ill-bred her background really was. At the last moment Éponine decided against it, reminding herself that he was gonna go back to thinking she was irritating soon enough. The marble asshole.

Pausing just a moment to admire his blond curls from the position she was in—they even looked bouncy—Éponine figured that if his good mood held out this long, then her sudden whim was worth the risk. Tentatively, she poked a finger at the largest curl that seemed to stick out from the top of his head, wondering how he'd managed not to get them wet from the rain. He tensed up but she pushed further with a mischievous grin, running a hand through the mess and wondering if he broke any combs in it. A giggle broke through without her permission. "Your hair is a treasure, monsieur!"

"Uh, I suppose it is—ah—fine!" Enjolras spluttered in surprise, his typing halted. He didn't tell her to remove her hands from his person. Éponine took this as a sign that he wasn't about to give her a lecture on propriety and tugged a little on a particular curl that had caught her attention. He let out a curse and nearly jumped out of his seat. She stepped back with a wince.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

There was no answer. Éponine frowned. Well, now she was obviously irritating him. Too bad. Letting out a breath, she leaned over further so he at least at the choice to look her in the eyes. If he turned his head backwards, of course. No need to make it too easy on the man. The tips of his ears were an unnatural shade of red from his anger and Éponine made sure to speak quietly so only he could hear her when she said coaxingly, "You know, if you were a little less uptight, then we wouldn't be at odds so often. I don't really enjoy arguing 'till my mouth feels like falling off. Much other fun uses for the thing." A smile curved across her lips at the thought. "But…thanks for being in my corner this time. I guess."

Éponine gave his yellow curls one more ruffle as she parted, wishing he was this conciliatory and quiet all the time. It would make a lot of things easier.

From the sidelines, Grantaire leaned forward to take a peek on Enjolras. He burst into what he would later claim was an uncontrollable fit of laughter, only broken by the quick interrogation of Comferre.

"What? What was it?"

Clutching his sides, Grantaire just shook his head and pointed. Comferre took his cue and glanced towards Enjolras' face before grinning so wide it nearly split his skull. "Well, it seems like Éponine has finally realized the benefits of a positive reward system."

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