So I tried to take the classic "Oh em gee, you made a bet about me/fell in love with me/now I hate you" and change it up completely. Hope you like it!
The swelling in Feuilly's lip went down quickly, but the cut was slower to heal, and the black eye seemed to be stubbornly staying as well. He had hoped that it would all go away before the next Friends of the ABC meeting, but he still had them as he entered the Café Musain for the first April meeting of the Friends of the ABC.
Joly's jaw nearly hit the floor, and he leapt up , charging toward Feuilly.
"What happened to you?" he cried. Feuilly groaned.
"I got in a fight," he said. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow from where he lounged nearby, his feet on the table.
"Feuilly? In a fight? With who?"
"Marius," Feuilly muttered.
"Pontmercy?" Courfeyrac prodded. Feuilly nodded, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. Joly's eyes got big and he backed away.
"I think you've got gangrene. Oh, and I've got an open cut on my hand!" he scurried to the far corner and Feuilly sat down next to Courfeyrac and Combeferre.
"Pontmercy eh? What happened?" Combeferre asked, looking up from a thick book to peer over his glasses at Feuilly's battle wounds.
"He…he insulted Eponine," Feuilly said stiffly.
"Oh ho!" Courfeyrac cried, "The brave knight saved his lady fair!"
"Maybe we should get you a white steed," Combeferre suggested mildly. Feuilly shot them dirty looks.
"Did you at least win?" Courfeyrac asked.
"Yes," Feuilly replied, "and he apologized for being so rude."
"You should have made him apologize for being a Bonapartist as well!" Combeferre cried, making Courfeyrac chuckle.
"Feuilly is hardly thinking of such trivial things as politics when he's fighting for his lady fair. You're the well-read one, Combeferre, I would expect you to know all about fairy-tales."
"I hardly concern myself with such drivel," Combeferre said, looking affronted.
"Combeferre!" Courfeyrac scolded, "How dare you call Feuilly's life drivel?"
"Enough!" Feuilly shouted, grabbing a hunk of bread and flinging it at Courfeyrac, who ducked, grinning. The bread hit Grantaire in the back of the head and he looked around hazily. Feuilly decided that it had been a worthwhile use of the food and looked around for something else to throw.
"All right, all right! Je renounce!" Courfeyrac said, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
"Say, why don't you bring Eponine to a meeting?" Combeferre asked, changing the subject.
"Why?"
"She's the epitome of what Enjolras wants for the poor. A street girl who's moved up in life, has her own place, and a job? Les amis would eat it up."
"She's quite shy. I don't think she'd like it."
"She hung around here enough when she was in love with Pontmercy. Besides, you should collect on your bet from Grantaire. He's got to see her for you to prove it."
"Well…I don't want her to know about it," Feuilly explained uneasily.
"Ooooh, the plot thickens," Combeferre said.
"Come on, Feuilly, bring her by. I found her quite charming at Christmas and New Years', and I've not seen her since."
"You stay away from her, Courferyac! I've heard enough of your tales of womanizing to know not to leave her alone with you."
"You insult me,mon ami. I know enough to stay away from a girl who has a suitor. Although she is quite pretty," he added mischeviously, "Just bring her. I want to see Grantaire have to part with his alcohol money. I think it will be tres amusant."
"All right, all right. I'll have her stop by at the next meeting."
"Fantastic," Courfeyrac said with a grin, "I'll go and tell Enjolras."
A week later, Feuilly walked into the café with Eponine on his arm. Courfeyrac grinned and elbowed Combeferre, who whistled to get Enjolras' attention. The leader's face lit up, and he made his way over to them.
"Eponine, this is Enjolras. Enjolras, meet Eponine," Feuilly said dryly. Enjolras politely shook Eponine's hand, and proceeded to drag her up to the front of the room, calling for the attention of les amis. Feuilly groaned. He'd been afraid of that.
"Mon amis!" Enjolras called, "I would like to introduce you to Eponine, who is a symbol for the poor of not only Paris, but the world!"
Eponine was staring at him with her mouth hanging open, her cheeks turning pink.
"And our own Feuilly helped her become so! The Teacher of Justice has truly shown us the merit of the working man. He apprenticed this poor girl, although she was little but a street rat, and helped her learn the more genteel ways of society, and now she works in a book shop! She has an honest job, and her own flat. This, mon amis, is our goal for the poor of Paris!"
Eponine was bright red now, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were chortling loudly in the back. Grantaire, realizing that he was five francs poorer, had unwisely smashed the bottle containing the rest of his brandy against the wall, and Joly could be heard whispering loudly to Bahorel that Eponine's coloring was definitely not normal, that she should be avoided at all costs, and that he would just hate to see the color of her tongue. His guess was that it would be purple, no green. Perhaps a mottling of the two.
Enjolras finished his soliloquy and released Eponine, who rushed to Feuilly's side.
"You didn't tell me he was going to do that!" she said, fanning her hot face.
"I'm sorry, chère. I thought that he would warn you before he pulled you up there."
Grantaire stumbled up, and tossed Feuilly five francs.
"There y'go," he grumbled. Eponine looked at Feuilly curiously.
"It's just a bet I won. It's nothing, really," Feuilly said airily.
"I bet'm he couldn't turn you into a lady," Grantaire slurred, grinning wickedly. Then several things happened at once. Feuilly began to apologize, Courfeyrac and Combeferre burst in with explanations to save their friend, and perhaps most surprising of all, Eponine slapped Grantaire across the face, which caused him to stagger backward and the others to stop talking.
"Wh-wha' was that for?" Grantaire cried indignantly.
"For making such a horrible bet about a lady. I may not have been able to afford fancy clothes and perfumes, but I've been a lady all along. How dare you!" Eponine returned, her cheeks bright pink and her head high.
"B-but…Feuilly went along with it!" he stammered.
"Yes, well," Eponine seemed at a loss, "he'll use the money for good, not for brandy!"
Shocked, Grantaire stumbled to the other end of the room in search of more brandy. Combeferre was smiling with amusement.
"Well, your speech has certainly improved since we first met, Eponine. You have learned much from your reading," he said.
"I…" she blushed.
"What?" he asked.
"Well I…I sort of…stole what I just said. From a book. I just changed the words a bit to make it fit what had happened."
Courfeyrac threw back his head and burst into peals of laughter, and Combeferre chuckled, bowing to Eponine.
"You have mastered the art of reading," he said, his eyes sparkling in amusement, "and you are welcome to come and look through my library anytime."
Feuilly wrapped his arms around Eponine and kissed the top of her head.
"Ah, mon chère," he chuckled as les amis dissipated, "you are tres amusant."
"Well, I couldn't just stand there and let him mock me," she said, grinning coyly.
"Indeed you could not, Mademoiselle Eponine," he said, offering his arm. She took it and the two went out the door into the mild April night.