Merry Late Christmas, lovelies! I did my best to get this to you on time, and I'm sorry I didn't, but here it is now! I'm hoping you love it- because I do, and I'm sorry it's short, but I didn't want to leave you on a cliffhanger. Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

Walking downstairs, most of the Amis looked very surprised to see them come down from upstairs. "Enj! You're here!" exclaimed Jehan. "How did you get here?"

"Magic," teased Eponine.

"Guess what?" exclaimed Grantaire. "WHITE ELEPHANT PARTY!"

They all cheered, and everyone grabbed a present off the table that wasn't theirs. Eponine ended up with a gift, neatly wrapped in cherry red paper and tied with a brilliant gold bow. They all got in a big circle and Jehan went first. He ripped his open in glee to find... an empty water bottle. His face fell and everyone laughed. "Who's was it?" roared Grantaire.

Bossuet piped up: "Me!"

The room exploded into laughter. Bossuet went next. He opened his shabbily wrapped present and found a statue of a wine bottle. "GRANTAIRE!" he shouted. Grantaire nodded, grinning. He opened his present, which was Eponine's, to find a pair of rainbow leg warmers. He grinned viciously, and put them on. The room cheered.

It was Eponine's turn. She neatly ripped off the paper to find...

A newsboy cap. Brown, and floppy. She was immediately in love. She put it on her head. "Enj?" she guessed. He smiled a small smile.

The night wore on. The stars were dark and low in the sky, and the party was still in full swing. Someone had put on some music, and a vicious dance competition had sprung up. Courfeyrac, being a party animal, had caught right on, and even Enjolras had tried it, but the others' polite comments and laughter had likened his dancing to that of a drunken giraffe.

At some point, around 9:30, they had started a game of Dew Pong, since only Grantaire wanted to play actual beer pong. Eponine was terrible at it, and so had to drink seven (and counting) cups of Mountain Dew. Enjolras was in the lead, he had impeccable aim. He hadn't had to drink a single cup yet. Jehan was in the corner, writing a poem about the scene in front of him. Combeferre sat on the counter, staring at all his friends like he had no ideas about who they were.

Suddenly, Eponine looked outside. "It's snowing!" she shouted. "We should go make a snowman!"

Grantaire, already stone drunk, was so excited he ran outside with no shoes on and instantly ran back into the house, complaining. Eponine threw on her gloves and was about ready to run outside when she saw Enjolras was sitting stoically in the corner. "Come on!" she grinned. "It'll be fun!"

"This is a terrible idea. We'll all catch a cold or something."

She crossed her arms. "That's a terrible excuse and you know it."

"It is a fine excuse. I'm not going."

She grabbed his hand, twining their fingers. "I'll drag you along behind me."

He pulled out of her grip. "No."

She just grabbed his hand again, walking towards the door. He yanked his arm towards him, but she wasn't going to let go. She pulled back, but he was stronger, and she got pulled until she was standing inches from his face.

"We should go home," he said quietly, and she could feel his breath.

"These are our friends!" she complained. "Just for once, can't you not be a statue?"

"Deal," he said, and before she could react, he was kissing her, lips on hers, and they were soft and warm and their fingers were twined and his hand was on her cheek and her hand was buried in his hair, running through the golden curls.

Suddenly, very quietly, they heard a door open, but neither of them registered it. She could feel his breath puffing on her cheek, and she could taste him on her lips and it was sweet.

From behind them, there came cheers, clapping and shouting. Enjolras pulled away to stare at his friends with a mixture of humor and distaste. Still holding her hand, he grabbed the closest thing in reach, a spoon, and chucked it at Courfeyrac, the loudest. Then, his lips were on hers again and it was Christmas Eve, and they were snogging in a corner, and it was perfect.

Christmas came, and when the sun arose, the Amis were lying in tangled heaps across the living room, Grantaire was on top of Courfeyrac, who had his feet on Combeferre, who in turn was lying on Jehan. Loud snores echoed through the room. The TV screen had the Netflix title screen on it, advertising 2:07 of Doctor Who. Someone had spilled a cup of something red, and it had gotten on Bahorel's white shirt, but he didn't seem to care, because still he snored on, a sticky pink stain covering his chest.

Enjolras was gone, but something smelled good, and so she wandered into the kitchen. Some bacon and a piece of toast sat on a plate. An impeccably written note sat next to it, reading: Had to run home. Be back in a sec, then we can go. I'm sure all these wondeful bozos we call our friends won't be up until twelve. Merry Christmas, impossible Eponine.

You are the most wondeful person ever to cross my path.

E.

She smiled as she read the note, and for a while, everything was perfect. How long was that while? A day? A week? A month?It doesn't really matter, as long as you know that simple joys must end, and life must take over once again.

It was a good Christmas, the first good one in a long time.

QotC: What is your favorite nerdy thing you got for Christmas? I got a Doctor Who clock...

-CMTM