Author Note: Welcome to the second chapter of Alea Iacta Est. We hope you enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: I am not Victor Hugo. I do not own the book, the musical, or the film, and I certainly do not own the characters.
Chapter Two: Touched
"He likes you," Cosette decrees.
Éponine barely manages not to spit out her tea. "What? No!"
Tigrin, Cosette's lark daemon, lets out a trill of laughter. "Éponine, you just told us he stares at you all the time. What else could it be?"
"I—he—he could be at annoyed at my presence! Maybe he wants me banned from the meetings. I know he doesn't like it when I bring Marius your letters."
"Can he kick you out?" Tigrin queries.
"Well, probably. He is the de facto leader," Éponine replies.
"Has he tried to kick you out?" Cosette asks.
"Well, no," she concedes.
Cosette and Tigrin look at each other, then at her. "He likes you," they say simultaneously.
Éponine covers her face with her hands and groans.
"Told you," Sabinus says smugly, and moves to lick daintily at his paw.
Éponine frowns at him. Little traitor. "Well, even if he does—ah! I'm not sayinghe does—what am I supposed to do about it?"
Cosette leans her elbow on the table and places her chin atop her crossed fingers. "Do you like him back?"
"No."
"Then turn him down if he does something, and ignore him if he doesn't," she says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world to do.
"I can't just ignore him! He's Enjolras!" She waves her arms around to emphasize her point.
"Whatever is that supposed to mean?" Tigrin says, amused.
"It means he's loud and outspoken, and he looks like a Greek god, and he has a daemon that's a damned lion, who happens to have no concept of personal space! I can't ignore him if I wanted to!"
"If you wanted to? That means you don't," Cosette points out.
"Just admit it already," Sabinus says. "You like him." He butts his head against her hand and Éponine grumpily lifts it to scratch him behind the ears.
He's so tiny still, not much bigger than he was when he first settled, growth stunted from too many years of going hungry, too many years of hardship. Still, he fits right in the crook of her arm, and Éponine wouldn't trade him for the world.
Except during moments like these, when he seems intent on ruining her life.
"Well, I think you're projecting the ridiculous crush you have on Hypatia onto me," she retorts.
He sniffs as Tigrin laughs. "It's not ridiculous. She's magnificent; I like her a lot better than that idiotic Luna."
"You love Luna," Éponine says, grinning.
"She's a great, big, hairy dog. I don't see what's to love," he replies, deadpan.
"She's a wolf," Tigrin gently corrects.
Cosette giggles. "Though she is very dog-like sometimes. I think it's adorable, though."
"You think everything about Luna and her Marius is adorable," Éponine teases, and Cosette lights up and starts speaking enthusiastically about her beau, just as Éponine wanted, and all talk of Enjolras liking her is forgotten.
For now, at least.
It's raining outside, and Enjolras is feeling slightly awkward, seeing as La Musain is suspiciously empty, leaving him and Éponine as the only occupants. He guesses it's another one of his friends' continued attempts to match-make him and the girl; no matter how ludicrous the idea is, they're convinced the two of them are a romance waiting to happen.
(It doesn't help that Hypatia is fully supportive of the endeavor; she takes great pleasure in personally annoying him. Wretched turncoat.)
So far, they've written her anonymous love letters (thankfully, she thought Marius had just forgotten to sign and address them to Cosette). They've sent her flowers (that was disastrous; it turns out she's allergic to orchids—not that he cares). They've purposefully tripped her in his vicinity so the only option was to catch her or let her fall (his hands had easily spanned her waist, and he could feel her heartbeat thudding against his palms, the memory of it burned into his fingertips).
And now, it seems they've even bribed the weather gods onto their side, because the downpour of rain is making it impossible for her to leave; she's stranded at La Musain whilst trying to deliver a letter to Marius.
"Who told you he was here?" he asks crossly.
"Monsieur Bahorel," she replies from her place in the doorway.
Hypatia snorts and whips her tail across the floor, the tawny tip of it brushing his boots.
Enjolras frowns, his suspicions confirmed. Bahorel knew full-well that Marius has been sick the past few days and confined to bed-rest at his apartment—there's no way he could have been at La Musain.
Éponine sees his displeased expression and averts her eyes, inching consciously backward. "I'll be going then, Monsieur—"
"Don't be stupid."
She snaps her gaze to his face. "Hey!" she says, anger turning her already husky voice rougher. The sound sends a shiver up his spine, which he ignores in favor of studying her flushed face and flashing eyes.
Fury looks good on her.
He shakes his head to dispel such thoughts. "Pardon me, Mademoiselle. I meant to say that there is no need for you to leave. You are welcome to stay until the rain stops." He indicates one of the plush chairs on the other side of the room.
She glances at them, glances back at him, then glances at the chairs again as if noting how far away they were.
Enjolras can feel his face warm. (He pointed them out because he thought they would be more comfortable, not because he was agitated at the thought of her sitting near him.)
Éponine deliberately walks in the opposite direction of the cushioned chairs and curls up on the little window seat, resting her head against the glass and watching the rain fall steadily down. Her daemon follows in her steps, but instead of going to rest at her feet or in her arms like he usually does, he plops himself down in between Enjolras's booted foot and Hypatia's golden body.
"Sabinus," Éponine says warningly.
"It's alright," Enjolras interrupts. "He can stay here. I don't mind. It's not as if he takes up much room, little thing that he is."
Éponine's eyes meet his, softening just a bit, and there it is—that odd jump his heart gives whenever she smiles or laughs or simply looks at him.
Enjolras doesn't like it. At all.
Hypatia gives a rumble of amusement.
Enjolras eventually looks away and goes back to writing his report; Éponine goes back to staring out the window, humming a little under her breath, and the two daemons appear to take a nap together.
Half an hour later, deep into explaining the strengths of the republic in comparison to the old monarchy, Enjolras sees a movement out of the corner of his eye. Assuming it's Hypatia, greedy for more affection, he doesn't even look up, and just automatically stretches out his hand to run it over her head.
Instead, his fingers hit smooth, ebony fur, gliding easily over the graceful arch of little Sabinus's back.
"Oh!" Éponine gasps, and her daemon yowls in surprise.
Hypatia surges to her feet, reacting to the sounds of distress, and Enjolras lifts his hand away like he's been burnt. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I meant no offence—"
Éponine darts forward and grabs Sabinus from the desk, clutching him to her chest protectively, running her hand over the same spot that Enjolras had, as if trying to wipe away his touch. "How dare you?" she yells.
Enjolras blanches—touching someone else's daemon without permission was one of the worst breaches of etiquette possible. He'd heard of lovers who hadn't even let their partner touch theirs, and here he was, casually laying hands on the daemon of a girl he barely knew. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I thought it was just Hypatia—I wasn't paying attention—I didn't see—"
"No, why should you see my daemon, huh? Because we're invisible to you, aren't we, bourgeois boy?" she shouts back, still angry. "It's not like you give a damn about us!"
Hypatia takes a step forward, giving a warning growl, but Enjolras drops a hand to her back to soothe her. "I apologize," he says again. "What I did was inexcusable. But I do see you, and your suffering, and the suffering of those like you—you are not invisible to me. But…even if I do see you, I should have taken more care."
Sabinus finally speaks up, and Enjolras starts slightly at hearing the sound of his voice for the first time—it's rich, smooth, and surprisingly deep for his small stature. "It's alright, Ponine," he says. "It was my fault, too. I just wanted to see what he was working on—I invaded his space first." He lifts his head to look directly at Enjolras, his eyes like silver discs. "My apologies, Monsieur Enjolras. Curiosity is my besetting sin, as it is with all cats."
Éponine frowns slightly at her daemon, but Enjolras gives him a little bow. "None needed, Monsieur Sabinus. Please accept my deepest regrets at manhandling you."
The daemon chuckles. "No need. And it was hardly manhandling. It felt…nice. You have gentle hands."
Enjolras and Éponine both blush, avoiding each other's gazes at this casual admission. (This is how they miss Hypatia and Sabinus exchanging knowing looks.)
"Thank you," Enjolras says, a trifle stiffly.
"Ponine?" Sabinus says pointedly.
"Oh, fine," she says, rolling her eyes. "Apology accepted. Just—watch where you put your hands next time, alright?"
Enjolras nods, and thankfully the rain has stopped by now, so Éponine leaves without a backwards glance, Sabinus still in her arms.
"Well, that went horridly," Hypatia says dryly. "Most men would have offered them dinner first, you know?"
Enjolras groans.
Endnote: Thank you for reading, and please review. :)