I'm back! Finally! I'm sorry this took so long but I am SWAMPED right now with lectures and tutorials and my job and if I'm being totally honest bars and shit, so EVENTUALLY here I am! Sorry!
Thanks so much to everyone who has waited and stood by the story and supported me, it means so much. You guys are truly the best! I'll try and update again ASAP, promise.
MUCH LOVE FOR ALL OF YOU
Disclaimer: I don't own Les Mis. But I did own the ass of the guy who tried to chat me up in a bar by claiming he was one of Les Amis in the movie. LOL NO. He wasn't. I can but dream of such a thing actually happening. I don't think he expected me to be able to name them all, bless him :L
After the wedding, Christmas seemed to jump out at them suddenly; they'd been so focussed on making the day perfect they'd never even thought about presents or Christmas dinner or trips home. As a result, Éponine and Les Amis barely saw each other except in passing as they all spent long days at work or university, followed by shopping for gifts and organising trains and flights.
On the 22nd of December, Éponine sang her last set at the Musain before Christmas and everyone came to swap presents and celebrate the holiday together. She sang one of the longest sets she'd ever sung – she didn't finish until half past midnight, by which time so many people had bought her egg-nog that she was fairly tipsy. Luckily, so was everybody else; so tipsy, in fact, that they were convinced to have a Christmas sing-a-long, which Grantaire managed to turn into a drinking game (a shot for every flat note). Éponine couldn't remember much past 2am but apparently they didn't leave the café until 5 – she did have a vague recollection of telling Enjolras that he smelled really good as he helped her get into bed. She hoped this was the drink addling her brain and not what really happened, as this would be mortifying beyond belief.
On the 23rd, tired and hung-over, Les Amis all departed for home. Some had far to go, like Bossuet, whose family lived just outside Toulouse, but others were just crossing Paris, like Marius and Cosette, who were celebrating with Cosette's father. All of them were excited to spend time with their families, with only two exceptions: Grantaire, who said he'd rather be at a pub somewhere than pretending to be sober with his grumpy father and grandmother, and Enjolras, who didn't specify why, but seemed even less keen than R to leave.
As Éponine had nowhere to go, she was staying in the apartment with Gavroche and Jacques, planning to produce some sort of Christmas dinner. Cosette and Courfeyrac had both offered her a place with their families, but Gavroche had never had a real Christmas dinner, so she decided to try and make his first one really special. As a result, she spent the last few days before the holiday picking up turkey, stuffing, Yorkshire puddings, pigs in blankets and vegetables for as little as possible, with plans to make a Christmas pudding on Christmas Eve once he'd gone to bed.
Christmas Eve was a cold day in Paris, and Éponine spent it with Gavroche and Jacques, first shopping, then playing games in the apartment in a nest of blankets they made for themselves on the floor. They splashed out on a Chinese takeaway and watched films until Gavroche and Jacques fell asleep, curled up in the pile of duvets in front of the Christmas tree. At around midnight, Éponine was putting the lid on the pot so the pudding could steam for an hour or two, when there was a thump outside the door.
Éponine froze.
Montparnasse? Dad? The Patron-Minette? She glanced over at the living room; the boys were still asleep. In an attempt to defend herself, she grabbed a frying pan from the stand and slowly inched her way towards the door, holding it above her head. No motherfucker is ruining Gav's Christmas. I've worked too hard on that fucking pudding to be dead before its finished fucking steaming.
She was almost there when the door swung upon to reveal an uncharacteristically dishevelled Enjolras, his arms full of bags of various descriptions, his curls wet and sticking to his face, and his shoulders covered in a fine layer of what looked like snow. He looked up from taking his key out of the lock to see Éponine ready to strike with a frying pan, the amused surprise written all over his face.
'What are you doing?' he asked, curiously.
Well it looks ridiculous NOW, but it was a fantastic plan a minute ago. 'Protecting against intruders' she replied, slightly embarrassed.
'Oh. Ok.' Apparently not wanting to question it, he turned and tried to put some of his packages down on the kitchen table, looking in serious danger of causing a gift avalanche as he leaned too far forward.'
'Sorry, I'll help you!' Éponine lunged forward, placing the frying pan on the table next to them, and then grabbed some of the more precarious-looking bags from the bedraggled leader of Les Amis.
'Enjolras… aren't you supposed to be with your family? In Saint-Germain-en-Laye?'
'Yes.' He looked over at the sleeping boys, hardly visible in their blanket nest on the floor, and the ghost of a smile appeared at the corners of his full lips.
'Why… why are you here?'
'I… sorry. I should go, I just…'
'No! No no, don't go! I just wondered.'
'Well I got home, saw everyone and… I realised I wasn't having any fun. At all. And I thought maybe it was like weddings – I didn't enjoy it at home, but here… it could be nice.'
'You don't like Christmas?'
'It's not my favourite time of year.' What?! Even I like Christmas and I haven't had a proper one in… a decade!
They stood awkwardly for a minute, quietly looking around the room, Éponine's arms folded loosely. Enjolras' coat slowly dripped water onto the floor, snapping her back into reality.
'Shit, Enj, your coat! Here, take it off, you must be freezing!' She moved forward to take it from him.
'Thanks. It's snowing pretty hard out there.'
Taking his coat, she saw that his green plaid shirt was similarly wet, hanging heavily off his broad shoulders. 'You're soaked through! Here, take your shirt off, I'll wash it. You need a bath or something.'
Enjolras didn't move, but his eyes widened in apparent panic.
'Enjolras, I've seen a shirtless guy before. You'll get ill, take it off and go for a shower or a bath or something.'
'I… but…'
Oh for Christ's sake. Éponine took a small step towards him, the sopping wet coat hanging over her arm. Reaching up, she undid the first button on his shirt, then the next, then the next, without looking up at his face.
Once the last button was undone, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Please don't be mad. As their eyes locked, she was almost startled by the intensity of his gaze: his bright blue eyes were darkened, filled to the brim with an emotion she couldn't name, except to say that she'd never seen it before. Resisting the urge to bite her lip nervously, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders to reveal his toned, slightly damp chest, never breaking eye contact as she did so. Enjolras let the sleeves fall down off his arms, and Éponine folded it over her arm with the coat. After a second of just standing there, staring at each other, Éponine whispered, barely audibly, 'you should go for a bath.'
The fire in his eyes went down and they lightened a shade or two, as he broke the stare, cleared his throat and mumbled 'yeah' before disappearing off into the bathroom.
Holy shit she mused to herself, placing the coat and shirt on the back of a chair for a second while she ran a hand through her unruly curls and exhaled deeply. That was... intense. Wow. Pulling herself together, she picked up the damp clothes and took them to the washing machine. As she set it, she couldn't help but think about what just happened: the awkwardness, the stare, his CHEST – for a guy that didn't really work out, Enjolras was seriously toned. What a chest! Éponine caught herself actually smiling at the memory. Pull yourself together idiot. It's just Enjolras. And you've seen a CHEST before.
Enjolras closed the bathroom door behind him and exhaled deeply, running his hands over his face and through his hair. What. The hell. Was that?! He turned on the shower, stripped off what remained of his damp clothing and stepped under the stream of warm water.
His insides churned with confusion. What did it all mean? Should he have stared at her like that? Why didn't she say anything when she took his shirt off? Why was he suddenly not cold anymore when it happened? Did he freak her out? Why were her eyes all sparkly and fiery again? Why was he kind of… excited by the whole thing?
Did… did he like Éponine?
No, don't be ridiculous. It's just a natural reaction to having a beautiful woman take your shirt off, and then look up at you through those thick, dark lashes with big, brown eyes all filled with fire. It wasn't PERSONAL. You're being silly. Stop reading too much into things.
This inner monologue continued for the full five minutes he was in the shower, and he was just about convinced by the end. He was being silly. It was all nothing.
He wrapped himself in a big, soft towel that was hanging on the radiator in the bathroom, started brushing his teeth and then panicked slightly, as he realised he had no clothes to put on. After a good few minutes of fishing through the airing cupboard in the corner, he came up with an old pair of green lounge pants that Combeferre must have forgotten about, but no t-shirts. He took a deep breath. There's only one thing for it…
Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he exited the bathroom, still brushing his teeth. Éponine had changed into her pyjamas, he noticed, and her back was turned as she put the lid on a Tupperware box, but she looked over her shoulder as she heard the noise behind her. He walked quickly over to the overnight bag of his clothes that he'd left on the table, then pulled out a t-shirt and pulled it on.
Éponine turned around completely, apparently finished whatever she was doing. 'There's erm… we used your duvet in the nest. I can wake them up and –'
'No! Don't be silly, I'll go on the sofa.'
'Not on Christmas Eve!'
'It's fine, really'
'I mean… I suppose we could all just kip in the nest? It's pretty big. You'll be cold; I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa.'
What, like TOGETHER?! 'I guess that would be ok.'
'Ok.'
The pair moved awkwardly over to the haphazard pile of sheets on the floor, and Éponine climbed in. He followed suit, careful not to wake the boys, or knock Éponine with his feet. Enjolras had expected that that would be the end of the conversation for the night – pillow talk wasn't really part of their friendship and this was weird enough as it was. He was proved wrong when Éponine, still looking up at the ceiling, asked softly 'why don't you like Christmas at home?'
He considered his answer for a second before speaking. It wasn't that he didn't LIKE Christmas, it was just that it was always a very sensible, clinical affair at the Enjolras household. Everything was exactly what was expected, nothing more. The tree was up, decorated by the maid, who also bought Enjolras' present each year. The Christmas dinner, prepared by the cook, was exquisite, and all his close relatives were there, but the conversation was always stunted and polite. There was no laughter or music. It wasn't much fun, particularly as he was the youngest person there by about 20 years. In later years, it had simply become an opportunity for his mother to show him women she wanted him to marry, or just brag about him to friends and family. His father and grandfather remained as critical and sceptical as ever, pulling him up on any slight mistake he might make. He dreaded to think what would happen if they knew the work Les Amis did for the poor.
'My family are quite… aloof. It doesn't make for much entertainment. And my father and grandfather started picking up on what was wrong with me before I was even out of my coat, so I just decided not to put myself through it, had dinner and left.'
'Your Pa's a bit severe, huh?'
Only as severe as say, a carving knife. 'A bit.'
'Well, I'm with you there.' Oh God. Nicely done, Enjolras. Just complain about how hard your family life is to ÉPONINE, she's had a really easy time of it between the rape, abuse and assaults! She'll really understand!
'Sorry, I'm just complaining, that was stupid of me, I'm sorry.'
'Don't worry about it. I understand it would be hard to be constantly disapproved of.' How is she so nice about all this? After all she suffered, I must look like such a wuss to complain about this.
Silence fell again, which Éponine broke with 'do you ever go someplace to just sit? Not think of anything, not do anything, just… sit. All safe and alone and content.'
I don't think I've ever sat not doing anything in my life. 'No, not really.'
'Isn't it exhausting? Being a leader all the time?'
Yes. 'It can be, sometimes.'
'You're much stronger than me; I couldn't do it all the time. I'd explode.'
'Of course you could. You're the strongest person I've ever met.'
She turned her head to face him. 'Really?'
'Really.'
They were quiet again for a minute.
'I go to the cathedral.' She murmured, barely loud enough to hear.
What? Oh, quiet place. 'Notre Dame?'
'Yeah.'
'I didn't know you were religious.'
'I'm not. It's just… safe.'
'I'm glad you have a quiet place.'
'Thanks. You'll find one someday.'
'Maybe.'
'Definitely.' She sounded so sure of herself, so peaceful; he couldn't help but smile even if he didn't believe it.
After this, she fell silent, almost certainly asleep. He lay awake for a while, not used to the feel of the duvet nest, or the rhythmic breathing of three small bodies beside him. Enjolras was just starting to drift off too, his eyelids growing heavier and almost closing, when Éponine rolled over in her sleep, so close their faces were almost touching. He could count her freckles.
They stayed in silence for a long time, Éponine asleep, Enjolras almost there. It was a long time before she broke it, and when she did, he could barely hear her sleepy murmur.
'Enjolras?'
'Yes?'
'Happy Christmas.'
He smiled sleepily. 'Happy Christmas, Éponine.'
I hope it was worth the wait! Possibly. Probably not, haha, sorry!
With any luck I'll have the next one up by actual Christmas!
Just kidding, it'll definitely be before then.
Don't let my uselessness stop you from reviewing, I absolutely properly love hearing from you all, please drop me a review to let me know what you think
New followers, welcome and thank you!
Guest reviewers, thank you super muchly, sorry I can't reply personally!
LoveLove.