AN: Sorry it's been ages since I've posted anything, having a bit of writer's block lately! I hope this will do for now, I may make some minor changes but hopefully it won't be so long before I write again :)
"You know, we really suck at this dating thing."
It has been several months of mayhem, and ideas for first dates are running low.
For the last few weeks they have tried everything. When ten-pin bowling, Éponine's hand had gotten stuck in the bowling ball and they'd spent an hour in A&E getting it removed ("I have work tomorrow, how am I supposed to serve coffee attached to a bowling ball?!" she'd shrieked at a snorting Enjolras); at the museum she'd accidentally knocked over an ancient artefact, and Enjolras had displayed some fantastic ninja moves in that split second of horror, managing to salvage the valuable vase by the tips of his fingers. The rest of their guided tour had been overshadowed by a constant hum of tutting and whispering. The trip to a wine tasting event (courtesy of Grantaire) had resulted in a rather tipsy (and bewildered) Enjolras being cast from the party of tourists for excessive arguing with the hostess and "disturbing the calm of the group, Monsieur". Éponine had blown him a kiss from the window as he waited outside on the kerb.
For both Enjolras and Éponine, the whole thing has become something of a chore (though they are both loathe to admit it for fear of causing offence). As such, they suffer their comparative weariness in silence and continue their dance.
The couple's fifteenth "first date" takes place a week before their third anniversary of being together, and by this point has become a running joke between their friends.
They sit in their familiar old haunt, the college café where they still like to retreat to a year after they've graduated. Tonight, the amis are mingling with younger students of the university, who are celebrating their first day of the Christmas holidays.
In the background, Bahoral croons a familiar ABBA tune that he has dedicated to Enjolras and Éponine.
The former sits with his arms folded across the tabletop, staring grouchily into the depths of his drink, and desperately trying to ignore the sounds of Cosette and Marius giggling into one another's mouths beside him.
"We would choose to come here on karaoke night, wouldn't we?"
"Karaoke night? Who said anything about karaoke night? This is just an average Friday…but with fresh meat," Courfeyrac ogles the youngest group of students with a wicked grin. "I've told them all that singing is compulsory. They're shitting themselves."
Combeferre gives a despairing sigh, but beside him, Grantaire smirks and draws two cigars from his pocket, handing one to Feuilly.
Cosette scrunches her nose. "Ugh, I don't know how you can smoke those disgusting things!"
"Fight night's coming up soon, gotta practise."
"Oh right, watching guys punch the living daylights out of each other, that's cause for celebration and cigars."
Courfeyrac stands up and reaches across the table to Grantaire, hand outstretched.
"Courfeyrac, you too?"
"What? It lends intrigue to my character. I'm the image of sophistication."
The little group stares at him as he wanders off into the crowd, cigar held jauntily between his teeth, and for a while the only sounds are the clinking of glasses in the background and the buzz of happy voices.
That and, of course, the crooning warbles of Bahoral on stage.
"You talk of politics, philosophy and Ep smiles like Mona Lisaaaaa…"
Enjolras sighs wistfully. "I am nothing if not surrounded."
"Aw go on, give Éponine a dance, Enjolras."
"Yeah, you could practise your quickstep-"
"Oh, shut up, 'Taire."
"Well you know what they say, the couple who sways together stays together."
Groaning, Éponine slaps a hand to her face. "This is so cringey."
Grasping her gently by the wrist, Enjolras pulls Éponine lightly to her feet and reaches for his scarf.
"Let's get out of here."
"Oh, well. That's gratitude for you."
Bidding Marius and Cosette goodbye, they leave Courfeyrac and Feuilly dueting 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' and head out the door, ignoring the calls of Grantaire ("You don't know what you're missing!").
Once outside, where the music has faded to a muffled thumping in the stillness of the snowy evening, Enjolras fixes Éponine's coat closer around her shoulders and mumbles, "How about we just do our own thing for dinner?"
...*...
Their meal eaten, the pair relax on the sofa, the room dimly lit by the twinkling of the fairy lights on the Christmas tree.
"Please tell me you're not into Fight Night too," Éponine mumbles against his shoulder, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
"Not the whole shebang, no, but I do sometimes put a little bet on."
Her eyes widen at the thought of Enjolras gambling. "You go to the bookies?"
He shifts indignantly.
"Only occasionally, I'm not Courf." Resting his head against hers, he plays with her hair absentmindedly, and continues softly. "It's just…my grandfather used to bet when I was a kid, once a year. It kind of became my tradition too, I guess."
"Oh."
"He'd take me with him to the betting shop and buy me a present on the way back if he won. 'Course, it was the horseracing in his case, but after he died - "
The room is suddenly enveloped in darkness as the lights on the Christmas tree blow.
"Damn," Éponine hisses as she scrambles from where she lies snugly on top of Enjolras.
"OW!"
"What?" She searches for his face in the darkness.
"Nothing," his voice winces from somewhere beneath her, an octave higher than normal. "I'm okay, you just…you just kneed me."
"I don't need you, I change lightbulbs all the time-"
"No, I mean – never mind."
Éponine finds the switch for the table lamp and sits cross-legged on the floor to fiddle with the fairy lights. Regarding her for a moment, Enjolras swings his legs off the couch and leans his chin in his hands.
"Ep?"
"Hm?"
She curses as the fairy lights tangle in the Christmas baubles, and trails a string of tinsel from the depths of the tree. Noticing his silence, she turns to Enjolras with a frown.
"What?"
He looks at his girlfriend, the girl who has been his lover, his critic, his classmate and his friend for the most important years of his life, and tries to gauge her reaction.
"My mother has asked if you'd like to have Christmas dinner with us."
Her frown disappears, making way for a look of surprise.
"Really?"
"You needn't sound so shocked."
"Well it's just. Your family's so proper, and I'm, well…"
He stands up, pulling Éponine to her feet with him.
"They like you, Éponine."
She chews her lip uncertainly.
"It wouldn't be awkward?"
Enjolras sighs. He normally hates those kinds of situations, the formal dinners his parents hold every Christmas for their friends. Nice enough people, but add a girlfriend to the mix and the scrutiny would be nearly unbearable.
"We could just treat it as another date," he ponders aloud, his face so serious and thoughtful that Éponine cannot help but giggle.
"Besides," he shrugs, pulling her closer, "I would like to spend Christmas with you. I mean, well…I'd like to spend every Christmas with y-"
He doesn't have time to get the words out before Éponine has grabbed him by the collar and yanked him through the door to her bedroom.
To Be Continued.