A/N: So fucking there! I finally got this dooooone! I'm sorry if the POV is confusing. At the moment, I'm not even sure what it is, haha. I'll be posting the next chapter soon, I've got some of it done already. Tell me how I'm doing? I'll love you forever if you review! (:

Éponine had stormed out of the house after an argument with her father, needing air, needing out. No way in hell was she going to rot in that shithole until all her life was gone. She'd get a good job, make a future for herself, defy everything her father had accused her of being-was what she had said.

Four and a half hours later, alone and shivering on the streets, she decided that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to rush out of the house with no inkling of where she was going and no money in her pocket. Still, she was too proud and too pissed to go back, opting to wander the streets pickpocketing wallets at random.

Finally, her legs gave out from under her and she gave in to her exhaustion. Resting her head against the ancient brick of the bridge-when had she gotten to the bridge? And was that her shaking the world?-she clutched her legs to her chest to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, and closed her eyes. Had she forgotten something? And why was her foot so fucking cold? With these thoughts she fell into a fitful sleep.

He had told himself not to be excited. Really, he had, but the fire in her eyes and the rasp of her laugh had kept him awake at night and he couldn't help but bounce a little as he walked down the dirty streets on his way to the bridge. Humming to himself, he strolled up to the bridge, glancing about but not expecting anyone. The girl-oh my word, he didn't know her name!-didn't really strike him as a punctual person.

His eyes taking in the grey scenery, he spotted a small figure huddled in the corner of the bridge. He approached the person, planning to give them some money, until he saw a pair of very familiar feet. One converse-clad, one bare.

He shook her shoulder gently, dodging the punch she instinctively threw at him. This time, he had been prepared.

"Who the hell..." she muttered, immediately on guard. "Oh. It's you."

He smiled, and helped her up. "Yeah, it's me. Why are you sleeping here?"

She shrugged and yawned. "Tired."

Concerned but not one to pry, he stuffed it in his head for later and, digging into his messenger bag, pulled out her dirty shoe.

She took it and slipped it on her foot, not caring to tie the laces.

"Now, you've got to fulfill your promise, Cinderella." He said, attempting to act smooth.

She snorted in response. "Cinderella? I don't think so, love. Call me Éponine."

"Éponine." He whispered. The name was magic, as was its bearer. "Jean Prouvaire." He replied, extending his hand. "Or Jehan."

She shook it readily. "So where to, handsome?"

He cleared his throat, embarrassed at her teasing nature. "Well, there's a café I frequent. If you don't mind, I'm really most comfortable there."

She slipped her hand in his, and grinned, showing her dimples.

"Lead the way, Charming." She replied.

If he had known her any better, he would have known that this was all extremely uncharacteristic of her. As they had just met, however, he just blushed and led the way to the Café Musain.

Éponine, finding this café to be the café where she often went to in hopes of catching a glimpse of Marius, she suddenly became conscious of her hand in this stranger's, and pulled away. What if Marius saw them? She immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt look on his face, but didn't offer her hand again.

They walked into the Musain, conveniently ignoring the looks the students were giving them. Jehan led her to a secluded table in the corner of the room. With the way he curled his feet under him and arranged his supplies perfectly on the table, she could tell this was his favorite spot. When he decided he was ready, she shook out her hair and, as instructed, sat "very, very still." She was content watching his hands fly across the paper like a bird's, and the two fell into a comfortable silence, blocking out the world around them.

Suddenly, a clamor and shouting from across the room woke them out of their reverie.

"Hey, 'Ponine!" a voice yelled.

Éponine glanced up, and her face broke into a grin. "'Vroche!" she cried, gathering the young gamin in her arms. "You taken a bath lately?" she asked, crinkling her nose.

"Aw, piss off." He grumbled, but he was smiling.

"Whatever, Goldilocks." She teased, ruffling the blonde hair hidden beneath a thick layer of dirt and grime. "And where did you learn to talk like that?"

"I learned from the best." He replied sassily.

She smacked him across the head, and then patted the space next to her. "Haven't seen you around much lately."

He frowned, taking a seat. "Yeah. I know." She frowned too, and nodded.

The Amis, who had been watching the scene unfold with bemused expressions, took this as their chance to speak up, bombarding the two with questions.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Gavroche, who the hell is she?"

"Wanna come back to my place, babe?"

"Does anyone have any wine? I feel like wine. Hello?"

"What are you doing here, Ponine?"

Éponine, terrified and extremely uncomfortable with these strange young men practically jumping her, instinctively raised her hands above her head to shelter herself. Jehan, noticing this, stood up.

"Stop!" everyone turned at the sound of the gentle poet shouting. "L-leave her be! You're acting like idiots."

Everyone immediately sobered up, mumbling apologies to Éponine. Gavroche started cackling at the sight of the Amis running away with their tail between their legs, and Éponine found it extremely contagious. She tried to nudge him to stop, but it only made him laugh more, and soon they were both cackling together.

Grantaire marveled at how alike their laughter was, and Courfeyrac, ready to laugh at anything, started laughing with them. It took domino effect. Enjolras couldn't help but wonder what their cackling bunch must've looked like to the other poor souls in the café, and let out a chuckle. This show of emotion from the marble lover of liberty sent the Amis into an uproar, which was all it took for Éponine to grab Jehan's arm and slip out of the booth unnoticed, not before passing Gavroche a slip of paper with her phone number on it.

Once outside, Éponine breathed the sigh of one who has had a good laugh.

"Damn," she said, grinning. "That was interesting."

Jehan nodded, playing with the strap of his messenger bag. "Hey," she said, poking him. "It's getting late. I'll walk you home." Inside she was still burning with a fire she'd forgotten she had, and she knew today might be her last time ever feeling it- so why not add a little wood?

He frowned for a second before laughing a little sheepishly. "It's usually the guy who walks the girl home, you know."

She tilted her head, concerned. She knew that look, knew that hesitant laugh. "Why not?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you want to go home?" she asked softly.

His face crumpled. "I'm… I'm sorry, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," she said, taking his hand in her small dirt-streaked one, this time not worrying about Marius. Who needed Marius, anyway? "Come along, then."

"What? Where are we going?"

"I'm going to show you my man-cave." She replied, grinning.

A/N: Soundslikepeanuts, I have to thank you again for inspiring me to-you know it-get shit done! Yay productiveness!