A/N: I don't know if anyone is reading this, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it.
Another week passed and Éponine was up and about once more. Her nose was healed and the bruising on her face had considerably faded. Despite Combeferre's assurances that she was welcome to stay, she was ready to leave the apartment and find shelter on her own; however, Combeferre had insisted that she stay for one more meal, and after returning from a brief walk outside, Éponine found that the apartment was full of familiar faces: the Amis de l'ABC, including her brother and sister. It was the latter she was most eager to see.
"'Zelma!" She cried, rushing over to her sister and immediately regretting it as she was painfully reminded of her healing ribs. She threw her arms around her sister's thin frame.
"Woah, take it easy," Azelma murmured, gingerly returning the hug. Éponine gently took her face in her hands, carefully examining her. "'Ponine, gerroff," Azelma grumbled.
"You've lost weight." Éponine frowned. "Hey, where did these bruises come from?" She asked, noticing some dark, finger-shaped bruises on her neck. Azelma pulled away from her.
"S'nothing. Look, can we not do this here?" She asked, casting glances at the others in the room. Apart from those of her siblings, the only face she recognised was Marius's; she wasn't particularly keen on discussing personal matters in front of strangers.
"Right... But this conversation isn't over," Éponine told her. Azelma merely shrugged in response.
After this, the party picked up considerably. Everyone had been a bit hesitant when Combeferre announced that Enjolras had made dinner, but it turned out he was an excellent cook. He had made boeuf bourguignon and chicken chasseur, and they were the best things Éponine had ever tasted. Then Grantaire brought out the wine and the night became a bit hazy.
"No, no, no!" Éponine was insisting rather loudly, "The best part was when he tried to kiss Madame Hucheloup on the cheek and she smacked him with her rolling pin. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't bruise."
"Eh, Marius's got a thick skull," Courfeyrac replied merrily, ruffling his friend's hair. Marius swatted his hand away, but laughed all the same.
"At least 'Ponine took care of me and brought me home," Marius said. "You would have taken me to the Corinthe."
"Me?" Courfeyrac gasped dramatically. "Well, I would never!"
"Oh, sure," Bahorel laughed. "'Cause you never bar hop. Remember that solid week back in '29 when I'm pretty sure we went to every bar in Paris."
"Only in Paris?" Feuilly asked. "Pretty sure we woke up in Nanterre one morning."
"Yeah, we might have done," Courfeyrac agreed. "Ah, '29 was wild."
"Then the bloody revolution came and you all had to go and smarten up. Man, 1830 sucked," Grantaire added.
"1830 was unfortunate," Enjolras murmured. "We replaced a terrible king with another terrible king. Things will be different next time."
"Next time," Grantaire scoffed. "There won't be a next time."
"There is always a next time in the fight against tyranny."
"Perhaps so, but that doesn't mean there's any chance of success. You're talking about taking on the National Guard. The people are content enough at having a new king, aren't they? They aren't about to overthrow the government again."
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Enjolras replied in an even voice. "Your brothers here know what it means to fight for freedom."
"Oh, I know what it means to fight for freedom: premature death."
Enjolras gave him a withering look. "You will see. Even if we are not destined to be successful, our deaths will have an impact. You wouldn't understand because you have no links with the other secret societies that share common interests with us."
Marius looked up. "There are others?" He asked cluelessly.
"Of course there are others. No group can be more than 20 people due to law passed after the July Revolution. Obviously we had to work around that, so there are multiple sections, each with a president and vice president. In fact, Combeferre will be meeting with the vice president of the Society of the Rights of Man next week, Godefroi Cavaignac. They were pivotal in the July Revolution; hopefully, the same will be true for the next one."
"You're ruining my buzz," Grantaire complained. "C'mon, this is a party. Let's not talk politics."
Enjolras looked as though he wanted to argue, but a look from Combeferre silenced him.
The rest of the night passed in drunken merriment. Only Enjolras, Combeferre, Gavroche, and Azelma did not drink. The latter tried to slip away from the party a few hours after dinner without saying goodbye, but Éponine caught her by the arm.
"You headin' out, 'Zel?" She asked her, slurring her words.
"Yeah. I'll be missed, y'know. Our old man's expecting me."
Éponine frowned. "Are they treating you okay?"
Azelma merely nodded. Éponine was about to push for more information, but Azelma cut her off. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you around."
"Azelma—"
"'Bye, 'Ponine." And she left. Éponine was about to follow her, but Gavroche, who had been watching, stopped her.
"She ain't gonna tell you nothin' right now an' if ya make 'er late, the old man'll give 'er a beatin'. 'Member you ain't there no more to take the blows for her. She's tougher than ya give 'er credit for, y'know."
Éponine opened and closed her mouth a couple times. "I... I shouldn't have left..."
Gavroche shook his head. "Ya did what you 'ad to do. One day, she'll get out too."
She tried to believe him. She really wanted to believe him, but there was a nagging doubt that told her Azelma would always be too timid to leave. Truthfully, she feared for her sister's well-being, but she knew there wasn't much she could do for her at the moment. She tried to return to the party, but she found she no longer felt like celebrating. That is, not until Marius quite suddenly enveloped her in his arms and began to dance with her to the music Jehan was playing on his flute. Despite herself, she threw her head back and laughed as she danced with him. He held her close to him, and she felt warm and tingly. She also had an overwhelming feeling of perfect security. As the music slowed to an end, Éponine forgot herself and leaned in to kiss him. Very briefly, their lips met. Then he pulled back, blushing to the roots of his black hair.
"'P-Ponine..." he stammered, his green eyes looking back and forth between her own hazel ones. "I... N-No, we really shouldn't..."
Éponine took several steps back from him. "S-Sorry, I don't know what I..."
"No, no, it's fine," he assured her. "It's the wine, probably."
"Marius, I..."
"No, really. Don't worry about it." He smiled at her. "Come on, let's enjoy the party."
...
The party went on into the early hours of the morning. Enjolras had tried to excuse himself so that he could go to bed, but there was nothing for it; the noise was too much and he soon returned. Now, however, various members of the Amis de l'ABC were strewn across the different pieces of furniture, passed out. Grantaire, probably knowing the extent to which it would annoy him, had deliberately passed out in Enjolras's bed, rather than the spare bed. Gavroche, probably also knowing how it bother Enjolras, had joined him and Grantaire had draped an arm around him. In the spare bed lay Marius, who had been half carried, half dragged there by Courfeyrac and Éponine. These same two lay passed out on either side of him. Feuilly was passed out on the sofa with Bahorel sprawled across the floor next to it; Combeferre was in his own bed, joined by Enjolras; Joly and Lesgles had left a couple hours prior, insisting Musichetta would give them hell if they stayed out until morning; and Jean Prouvaire was still playing his flute. Indeed, he suspected that this had been the downfall of his friends, luring them into the ever-so-tempting realm of sleep. The last few notes of the song he had composed himself slowed and with a shimmering vibrato, came to a stop. He moved to the window and looked out.
It was very late, probably close to 3AM. Jehan didn't mind though; he liked the stillness of the night. After looking up to the stars for a few moments, he moved to the armchair where he curled up and sleep claimed him.
...
When Éponine awoke in the morning, most of les Amis de l'ABC had cleared out. Marius and Courfeyrac still lay asleep in the bed and upon getting up, Éponine learned that Grantaire was still asleep in Enjolras's bed. Combeferre told her conspiratorially that soon, Enjolras's patience would be at its limit and then the fun would come. This wasn't the first time Grantaire had fallen asleep in his bed and, Combeferre explained, the only solution to this—at least as far as Enjolras was concerned—was to dump cold water on him.
"You might want to wake Courfeyrac and Marius though," Combeferre told her. "It will get loud."
"What'll get loud?" Courfeyrac asked as he left the spare room. "You gonna wake Grantaire?"
"Enjolras will," Combeferre replied.
"Ah, so we can expect shouting. What a rousing start to the day."
Enjolras then entered the apartment, carrying a bucket.
"Where're you coming from?" Courfeyrac asked. Enjolras gave a rare smile and there was an air of mischief about him.
"I assumed Grantaire would sleep in my bed, seeing as he does it every time he drinks here. So before everyone arrived yesterday, I filled this with water and left it outside in the alleyway. It should be fairly cold, considering the drop in temperature last night. Perhaps he'll think better of sleeping there next time."
Éponine chuckled and returned to the spare room to wake Marius. His hair was sticking up from every angle. She smiled as she looked down on him. She felt an urge to kiss his forehead, but decided against it. Considering his reaction to their kiss the night before, he was not interested in a romantic relationship with her. Sighing softly, she gently shook his should.
"Nn... The eagle's gonna get it..." Marius murmured. She shook him again and he opened his eyes. "Oh. Hello, 'Ponine. What're you doing in my room?"
"We're still at Combeferre and Enjolras's place. C'mon, s'time to get up. Enjolras is about to dump water on Grantaire's head."
Then came the loudest and longest stream of profanities either of them had ever heard, ending with:
"Fucking Christ!"
Éponine giggled. "I'd say Grantaire is now awake."
Marius sat up. "I think you're probably right. So... What now, 'Ponine?"
"Mm?"
"I know you don't plan on staying here. Where will you go? What will you do?"
"Dunno yet. But I'll figure it out. I'll probably get a job as a seamstress or something, try making an honest living. Well, mostly honest."
"If you ever need anything..."
"I know," she said softly. "Believe me, I know."