Hi everyone!
I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting for so long on this chapter. As I've mentioned, I never meant this to be more than a oneshot (whomp whomp), but in the beginning I was churning out way more than I've been able to do lately. So it worked at first because I could afford to update every 2 or 3 days - you know, because I had so written so far ahead - but then school got busy and then there was writer's block and I'm mostly over it now. So rather than write something really quickly to post but have it be sub-par, taking longer in between chapters means better work! Quality over speed wins the race?
That said, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. Oh well, it's necessary to get us where we need to go next (and I still had a really fun time writing all the goofiness).
Which brings me to point C! There will probably only be two more chapters after this one. There is now an ending for this fic, and I'm eager to wrap it up and get all my feels out about it. However, because you guys are the best. people. ever., I'm going to write an epilogue (though it probably won't be anywhere near as long as the chapters usually are), and I'm going to post a deleted scene from chapter 6! (More on that later.)
To the anon who messaged me on tumblr: here's your update! Ok please get tumblr and be my friend! I would've replied, but 1) this chapter was going up shortly after you messaged me, and 2) there are too many real life people that follow me on tumblr who understand my geekiness, which is fantastic, but really do not need to know that I write somewhat smutty fanfiction. Hence the lack of a public reply. BUT PLEASE GET TUMBLR! Everyooooonnnneeee get tumblr and be friends with me!
Lastly, eternal thanks to ThinksInWords (GO READ EVERYTHING SHE'S WRITTEN NOW, ALL HER LES MIS FICS ARE E/É AND SHE'S AMAZEBALLS) aka textsfromumbridge on tumblr who is incredibly helpful for bouncing ideas/advice/editing/critiques. Seriously, as soon as you're done here (or before you read this, whatevs), go read her stuff. And tell her I say hello.
Disclaimer: I'm being inducted in the French National Honor Society next week at my university and the staff asked that we bring in an excerpt of a French poem and I picked one by Victor oh Victor whaT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!
Gavroche was discharged from the hospital a few days later. Joly drove Eponine to collect him, Bahorel in tow. The kid was excited to be getting out, and especially to be moving in with Eponine. Or maybe he was just excited to finally be living with his idol, Courfeyrac. Eponine didn't care, as long as he was happy and had someone to look up to. That was why she was sure this would work, because she lived with Enjolras and Courfeyrac (and Grantaire, but she really didn't want Gavroche to be a heavy drinker), and spent all of her time around these other boys that were incredibly driven and successful.
When they arrived at the apartment, Eponine opened the door for Gavroche, sharing looks with Joly and Bahorel. When the door swung open, the teenager was greeted by a large group of people shouting, "Surprise!"
A "Welcome Home Gavroche" banner had been put up (painted meticulously by Eponine herself). There were boxes and boxes of food from the café, alcohol (for those of age), and lots of soda. Gavroche was greeted first by Courfeyrac, who gave him a big hug, then by all the others, who hugged him and ruffled his mop of blonde hair and clapped his shoulders. Enjolras gave him a big hug, locking eyes with Eponine as she watched. He winked at her, and her smile grew.
In addition to the Gavroche banner, she and her roommates had spent the past several days putting up the decorations for Christmas. They had gone and picked out a tree the previous day, and had decorated it so that everything would be ready for Gavroche. The boys had followed Eponine's and Clémence's creative directions, and now the apartment was fully decked out in garland, lights, flowers, and other Christmasy décor. And now it was perfect for when he came to his new home.
Grantaire handed her a glass of red wine, grinning at her and planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She playfully batted him away and went to her room to drop off her things.
"He seems happy," a familiar voice observed, startling her a bit.
"I'm just thankful he's healthy," she told Enjolras, unwrapping her scarf and hanging it up. She sank onto her bed gratefully. "It's a relief that he's here. I thought I was going to lose my baby brother," she said softly.
He sat next to her. "Are you ok?" he asked. "You've been pretty distant with me since we went to your parents' house." He avoided bringing up their conversation about how he felt about her, even though he suspected that was the real reason she had been avoiding him.
She gave him a look. "I don't want to talk about them, Enj," she said, a little harsher than she meant to. Consciously softening herself, she deflated a bit. "It sucks, but it's not a conversation for now. There's a party going on out there!"
There it was again. That fake smile, that over-emphasized happiness. She was shutting down. Enjolras wondered if the weirdness was due in part to the fact that she had come to understand his feelings for her, that she was the only woman he had ever noticed, that she knew that he wanted more from her than she had previously been willing to give. Perhaps Eponine was unaware of the depth of his feelings: that he loved every dark and stormy ripple that bubbled up from the places where the sun couldn't reach, that she had swept through his body like the cold sea and taken hold of his heart for her own and drowned him in her salt and infinity, that he was sinking farther and deeper below the surface despite his feeble attempts to break free from her undertow and swim for the breath he so desperately needed.
She was looking at him, and he wanted desperately to kiss her. But her bedroom door was open, and when he tenderly placed a hand on her back (he couldn't help himself) she stiffened beneath it and hurriedly stood up, taking a large swig of her wine.
Nope, she's still scared.
"Come on, let's go be social," she suggested, giving him a slightly strained smile.
Enjolras followed her out, pulling the door shut behind him. Eponine had already disappeared off into the crowd of his friends. He spotted her under Jehan's arm, her arm wrapped around his waist and her head affectionately resting on his shoulder. It made him smile.
Gavroche was thrilled with his private, albeit tiny, bedroom. He had insisted that he could sleep on the pullout so that the office would still be the office, but none of his new roommates would hear of it.
The next morning when Enjolras woke, he found Eponine and Grantaire in the kitchen, busily cooking pancakes. When Eponine spotted him, she instantly started ordering him around, asking him first to set the table, then to go and wake up her brother and Courfeyrac and Clémence.
As he was pulling out plates, he noticed that Grantaire had a floury handprint smeared across his face, and the same flour was in Eponine's hair, on her clothes, and on both of her cheeks. He turned his back on them, putting the plates on the kitchen table, and grinned. "Are you two actually making pancakes, or are you just getting the mix everywhere?"
He turned as he said it, and found Eponine standing directly behind him. Before he could react, her floured hands were smearing across his face and hair. It made him sneeze, but before she could run away, he grabbed her around the waist, holding her tightly and lifting her into the air as she shrieked and laughed and struggled in his arms.
They only stopped horsing around when a groggy Gavroche stumbled into the room, regarding them with a curious look. Enjolras cleared his throat and set Eponine down; she walked over to her brother and patted his cheek, grinning deviously when it left a handprint on him too.
"No, no," he said sarcastically, "Don't let me stop your flirting."
Grantaire just snorted, trying to cover his smile as Eponine glared at him. "What?" he asked defensively, "I didn't say a word. Your brother's smart, he figured it out on his own." Gavroche just looked at Enjolras and winked, making the law student smile as well.
"Doesn't take a genius, sis. R didn't tell me anything," he teased with a grin.
Eponine, avoiding Enjolras' gaze, just harrumphed and held her chin up. Then she spritzed water in Gavroche's face from the sink.
When the pancakes were finally done (it took a while for the cooks to get themselves back under control), and when Courfeyrac and Clémence finally emerged from their room, they all settled down to a comfortable breakfast.
Eponine's idiot friends had sat in such a way that she and Enjolras were forced to sit side by side. Courfeyrac and Grantaire were grinning stupidly, and even Clémence looked a little sly. Gavroche was already stuffing his face.
Christmas was coming up fast, and she had gotten gifts for everyone except Enjolras.
Last Christmas, she had gotten him a nice red scarf, because he had always complained about winter and how his "neck business" was always cold when he would have to leave the apartment. He had loved it, and wore it until it was much too warm for heavy scarves, and had pulled it out in the fall as soon as there was the slightest chilly breeze.
But – well, they had been sleeping together on and off for months. And he had feelings for her, he had said as much. Did that mean she had to buy him something better? What could be better than a scarf? Maybe a coffee mug?
She decided to ask Clémence, Musichetta, and Cosette. The four of them had gone out for lunch one day a few weeks before Christmas. Everyone had made plans to go away for the holidays – Musichetta would be going with Joly, and Cosette's father and Marius' grandfather were coming to them, but everyone else would be going to their respective homes. Eponine was, of course, staying, and would be doing Christmas with her brother and sister at her apartment.
They each just gave her varying degrees of knowing smiles.
"When are you planning on telling him how you feel about him?" asked Clémence, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Clé, can we not have this discussion again?" Eponine asked exasperatedly, angrily stabbing her salad with a fork.
"Oh please, Eponine, everyone knows you like him. Why else would you be asking us about whether or not you should be buying him a special Christmas present?" Musichetta inquired.
"It's a logic thing, guys. We've been screwing for a while, and now that we've talked about how he feels about me –."
"You did what now?" hissed Clémence. Eponine looked at her friends, all regarding her with wide eyes and expectant faces.
"Ok, but this isn't about that –."
"No, it's definitely about that," Cosette insisted. "Eponine, you know he wants something more from you, and now you're asking if you should get him a special Christmas present."
"Sounds pretty relationship-y to me," Musichetta said in a sing-song voice with a smirk, her tongue in her cheek.
"You guys suck, you're the least helpful friends ever," Eponine pouted.
"Alright, alright, alright," Clémence said quickly. "What were you thinking of getting him?"
"A reusable travel coffee mug?"
"A mug?" repeated Musichetta scornfully. "The guy has been pleasuring you all year and now he wants to get serious with you and you want to buy him a mug," she said loudly.
"Can you not?" hissed Eponine, looking around. She loved Musichetta dearly, but the girl was as sassy as they come and had a voice that carried.
"What did you get for the other boys? What are some examples?" asked Cosette, much less judgmentally.
"Well, I got Jehan a personalized moleskin notebook to write his poetry, I got R a nice new flask because his old one was shitty and a fancy bottle of bourbon to fill it with, I'm doing art pieces for Combeferre, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac, I found these great wireless speakers for Bahorel – you know how he is about loud music –."
"Ok," said Clémence, cutting her off, "So you bought everyone pretty personal things. You can't just get Enjolras some average mug after giving Jehan a personalized moleskin."
"Why don't you put a bow on your hoo-hah and just give him that? That's really personal," Musichetta suggested dryly. Cosette choked into her iced tea (she rarely drank during the day, unlike her friends).
Eponine gave her a look, but then retorted with, "Oh no, he's had that too many times. I'm not a re-gifter."
That won her peels of laughter from her friends; she giggled with them.
When they regained control, Cosette asked, "What kind of message are you trying to send him?"
Eponine sipped her wine thoughtfully. "I don't really know, I guess I'm trying to say, 'hey, you're my best friend, and we're also fucking and I know you like me.'"
Three unimpressed faces glared back at her.
"Why don't you get him something that says, 'hey, man, I'm in love with you too?'" Musichetta suggested wryly.
"Because I'm not in love with him," Eponine insisted.
Clémence waved her hand dismissively. "Having this conversation with Eponine is like talking to a wall. Ep, you need to get him something that says that you're at least trying. It doesn't have to say 'thanks for all the great sex' or 'by the way, I'm in love with you.' Just get him something that says that you care, that you recognize that you two have a special bond – whatever you decide that that bond is – and that you love him, you know, as a friend."
Eponine arrived home well before anyone else was due back. Gavroche had been back in school for the past few days (she had sat down with him, explained the rules of him living with her – his curfew, his homework and school rules, his chores) and had complained about it good-naturedly every day, though he clearly was very happy to be back.
Being there on her own, she had plenty of time to wrap presents without being disturbed.
Everyone's gifts were laid out on her bed (she was locked in her room, just in case someone stumbled in early). She wore Joly's hat as she wrapped, playing loud music and singing along shamelessly and making several trips out to the tree to put the gifts under it. She had wrapped Enjolras' second-to-last and was laying it carefully under the tree when the door banged open.
Enjolras walked in, moving sluggishly. He didn't notice her sitting cross-legged next to the tree as he slowly shrugged off his coat and that red scarf, just kind of letting it all sink to the floor on top of the laptop bag he had unceremoniously dropped by his feet.
He was dressed in his work clothes, but didn't bother to change or even take his shoes off as he moved over to the couch to lay down. Then he caught sight of her.
"Why are you wearing that stupid hat?" he asked, staring at her with one open eye. His voice was hoarse and tired.
Eponine stood up and went over to him, crossing her arms and huffing as she replied, "It's Joly's Christmas present. And it's not stupid." It was suede, lined with faux fur, and had earflaps that tied under the chin. Joly was always complaining about his cold ears and how it would certainly make him sick. Musichetta had been there when Eponine bought it, and had laughed so hard that she had to stop walking – she had actually cried a bit. Then she insisted that Eponine buy it, and informed her that Joly certainly would wear it.
"No, you're right. He'll actually love that goofy thing," he agreed, shutting his eye.
She surveyed him. His face was pale, but his cheeks were flushed and his nose was red. When he opened his eyes to look at her again, they were tired and cloudy.
"Will you go away and let me sleep?" Enjolras grumbled noncommittally.
Eponine just reached out and felt his cheek with the back of her hand, then pressed her palm to his forehead. "Enj, you're burning up. What, did you catch a cold?" she asked with concern, pulling her hand away.
He caught her wrist, pulling her hand back down to his face. "Your hands are cold," he mumbled. "They feel good."
She sighed impatiently and sat down on the edge of the couch, placing her hands on his cheeks. He sighed as well, a little more contentedly, and laid his arm across her lap, absently caressing her hip.
A short time later, Eponine informed him wryly, "Your face is making my hands hot. Can I have them back now?"
Enjolras just groaned, covering one of her hands with his free one, and keeping hold as she let go of his face. He opened an eye. "You still look ridiculous in that hat," he mumbled.
Eponine rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said, yanking on his arms and struggling to pull up his dead weight. "Let's get you into bed."
She stripped him down to his boxers, and even though it was fairly warm in the apartment, he was still shivering. He could barely stay standing, so he just sat patiently, eyes half-closed as she pulled off his work clothes ("Jesus, Enj, how did you make it home on public transportation? You can barely stand!") and replaced them with flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Then she pulled his bed apart, helping him in and getting him comfortable before hanging his clothes over his desk chair. He was still shivering, so she threw an extra blanket from her room over him.
Eponine left him, closing his door softly behind her, and pulled out her cell phone as she walked into the kitchen to put the tea kettle on. "Joly," she said when he picked up. "Enj is sick. Think you can drop by on your way home from work and make sure that he isn't dying?"
She made him hot tea with lemon and honey to sooth his throat, and heated a bowl of chicken soup.
On her way back to Enjolras' room, Grantaire walked in the front door. "What the hell are you wearing?" he asked, taking off his coat.
"Joly's Christmas present," she replied, frowning at him. Why was everyone judging this damn hat?
"That's perfect for him. He'll never take it off."
Eponine grinned in response, then asked, "Can you open Enjolras' door for me? My hands are full."
"Is this some weird sex thing? Because if it is, you're on your own –."
"No! Enj is sick so I made him tea and soup. Get your nasty-ass imagination out of here," she joked with a grin.
Grantaire opened the door, letting Eponine walk in before following her.
"How's the invalid?" Grantaire cooed.
"Dying," came the hoarse response.
"If it would make you feel better, I could go get Eponine a sexy nurse costume. Since, you know, she's fucking you and nursing you back to health."
Eponine just picked up one of Enjolras' socks and tossed it at their roommate, who laughed. Even Enjolras was grinning weakly.
"Ok, R, can you not with the stuff about my sex life? My baby brother lives here now. He doesn't need to hear about that."
"It's ok! I already know!" a voice shouted from the kitchen. Eponine's mild expression immediately fell to a displeased one, shooting a mostly-serious glare at Grantaire.
When Gavroche appeared in the doorway, she frowned at him. "When the hell did you get here?"
He shrugged.
"Oh, just go do your homework," she ordered mildly. Gavroche just grinned, first at his sister, then at Grantaire, before taking his leave. Enjolras chuckled weakly behind her.
She set down the tea and soup on his nightstand, and had turned to leave with Grantaire when Enjolras grabbed her by the wrist.
"Stay," he murmured, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes.
She looked at Grantaire who gave her a knowing smile, then back down at Enjolras. Sighing in defeat, she pulled off her jeans, glaring at Grantaire as though she were daring him to make a comment, and crawled into Enjolras' bed.
"If you get me sick, I'll fucking murder you," she warned. Then, "Drink your tea."
Eponine propped one of his pillows up and pulled a book from his nightstand, studiously ignoring Grantaire but hyperaware of his gaze on them.
He was snickering as he cheekily told them, "You two behave now," to which he received a rude gesture from Eponine, and then he was gone.
A short time later – after Enjolras had finished his tea and eaten most of the soup (but only with encouragement) – he rolled over and leaned against Eponine. Sighing, she lifted her arm and let him rest his head on her chest. He curled into her, radiating heat, and muttered, "Best pillows ever."
It earned him a light smack on the top of the head and a grin. Then her hand that wasn't clutching the book was lightly running through his blonde curls. He hummed contentedly against her.
"Best I've felt all day," he murmured.
"That's because you're pressing your face into my boobs," she retorted dryly, unable to prevent another grin from forming.
They fell into silence – in fact, Eponine was fairly sure that Enjolras had just completely fallen asleep – and she was several pages into the book when the door swung open, revealing Joly.
As soon as he took in the sight before him, he smirked. However, unlike Grantaire and Courfeyrac, who were guffawing behind him, he simply said, "Hey Eponine." Then his eyes drifted up to her head. "Hey, that's a rockin' hat. I really like it."
She snatched it off her head hurriedly, having forgotten that she was wearing it all this time, and stuffed it under the covers. Enjolras, who had apparently woken up, snorted against her chest.
Joly examined him – he had even brought a stethoscope – and concluded that he had the flu.
Eponine stayed with Enjolras that night, hardly even worried about getting sick. He slept for most of the time, but her rest was significantly more uneasy. She couldn't help but remember the reactions of her friends as she held Enjolras in his bed, and her conversations with her girlfriends earlier in the day. She had been avoiding thinking too much about all of this since their three a.m. conversation the other night. But it had come to a point where she couldn't ignore it anymore.
He has feelings for me.
That much had been established. But how deep did those feelings go? Ugh, feelings were never even supposed to happen. They were friends; they were using each other. It was only sex, only a physical need. But then everything had gotten complicated.
Clémence had been insisting for months that Enjolras had feelings for Eponine. And she had been right, maintaining just as long that Eponine reciprocated those feelings.
Eponine herself was less sure. She had always kept herself so emotionally detached from any man that could even potentially have a future with her. It had been to protect herself, her little heart, the parts of her soul that were still untouched by the darkness in her life.
But Enjolras had wedged himself into a hole in that wall, and in the process had lost himself in her. What had started out as an innocent physical act, a selfish indulgence, had ended up pulling him in deeper than she was sure either of them could ever have imagined.
He would have been better off if they had never started this. If they had just left their romantic history in his freshman dormitory, and gone on with their lives as friends.
But then again, Eponine hardly regretted any of it. Except saying Marius' name – that had been an unfortunate heartbreak for the both of them. But the sex had lead to a profound connection between them – not a romantic one, she told herself, but a deep friendship. She had come to rely on him, in more ways than for just sexual satisfaction.
She found herself wondering then, as she lay there stroking his thick hair, if this is what it had been like for him, those nights he had held her as she cried over Gavroche. Had he wiled away the hours that he couldn't sleep contemplating his feelings for her as she dozed against his chest, or had he known even then? Had he instead contemplated her? Perhaps her feelings for him or her actions or her fears?
No, he knew her fears. God, if anyone knew them, it was Enjolras.
Why had she done this? How could she break her own cardinal rule and let someone in? She was better off on her own, stronger on her own, less likely to falter. You can't get your heart broken if you're all on your own.
Eponine's life had been full of heartbreak. She hadn't had a childhood, she barely had a family, and the family that she did have she abandoned for college. Perhaps, then, Gavroche's accident had been a blessing in disguise. He was all right, he was healed, and it had brought him to her, had brought her and Azelma together again.
She thought about her boys, how good they had always been to her, even after she dropped out. She thought about how kind they were to Gavroche, and all that they did to help her keep him from going down a bad path, even and especially before his accident.
Perhaps that was who her family was. They were her family – Gavroche and Azelma, of course, but also Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Musichetta, Marius, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly, Feuilly, Jehan, and now even Cosette and Clémence. And, of course, Enjolras.
She was closer to Enjolras than anyone, and had always been, and it was obviously true now more than ever. But in the few short weeks since Gavroche's hospital stint began (and in the few short weeks since), there had been a marked shift in her relationship with Enjolras.
Things between them had become, well, like a relationship.
He had taken care of her when she was so low that she no longer could do it herself, and now she was taking care of him. Eponine told herself that she was doing it to pay him back – she hated being indebted to anyone, even him – but a deep uneasiness in her stomach told her that wasn't so.
Enjolras had been acting like her boyfriend, and, what was more, Eponine didn't hate it. And now here she was in turn, acting like a girlfriend. Like his girlfriend. It was because he had begged her to stay, of course, but a year ago she probably would've told him to go screw himself and keep his germy ass barricaded in his room.
What was he doing to her?
And then there was the fact that Clémence kept insisting that Eponine was in love with Enjolras.
Well. Eponine didn't know how to be in love with anyone. She loved her friends, her siblings – no, her family – but she didn't know how to be in love. It was something she had spent her entire life running from, desperate to protect her heart, the only thing that had ever been solely her own.
So was she in love with him? No, she didn't think so.
But did she have feelings as well? Or was she just reflecting his light, like the moon reflects the sun?
With the exception of Marius, Eponine had never had romantic feelings for anyone, at least not in her adult life.
But she was only happy when she and Enjolras were on good terms. And she was by far the happiest when they were together. It didn't matter if they were with the rest of their friends or alone like this. She wanted to be around him constantly, to be touching him constantly. Of course, they barely touched one another unless they were alone, and it irritated her to no end that their friends were so annoying about what had happened between them, acting as though the two were a volcano about to explode. But then again, this wasn't a normal friendship.
Eponine ran her fingers through his thick hair again.
Maybe more than a friendship wouldn't be that bad.
Enjolras was much better after a few days, though he had passed on a touch of his flu to Eponine. Which infuriated her.
And what was worse, it was three days before Christmas, and he was leaving to go home. Courfeyrac had left the night before, and Grantaire had left a few hours earlier.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" he asked for the thousandth time, throwing a few more items in his duffel bag. "I've already told you, Azelma and Gavroche can come too. We have more than enough room. And I'll be able to take good care of your diseased ass."
"I don't go anywhere with assholes who give me the flu," she sniffed, huddled on the couch under a blanket, eyes glued to Casablanca.
When he opened his mouth to retort and to try to change her mind, she shushed him. He sighed. Casablanca was her favorite movie.
So instead of speaking, he sat with her, pulling some of the blanket over him. She instantly, seemingly without even thinking, swung herself off the arm of the couch and changed positions to lie on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and she sneezed into a tissue.
"I fucking hate you," she said matter-of-factly.
"I know," he replied with a grin.
Enjolras felt guilty about leaving her for Christmas, especially when she was sick (because of him). Eponine, he had come to learn, was more fragile than she would ever let on. Even though Azelma and Gavroche would be with her, he worried that she would burrow into her mind without her friends there, that he would come back and she would be once again cold and closed to him.
She knew every word to this movie, though it wasn't a fact he was just learning. He sat there with her, her head in his lap and his hand entangled in her hair, as she whispered along with her favorite lines.
Christmas arrived with light snow flurries and grey skies. Eponine exchanged gifts with Gavroche and Azelma, the 24-hour marathon of A Christmas Story playing over and over in the background. Eponine had been vowing for years that someday she was going to watch the whole marathon from beginning to end.
They had made crepes for breakfast and had just lazed around all day, until Eponine began cooking for dinner. She was a very good cook when she wanted to be, and was making flounder stuffed with crabmeat, with lots of vegetables on the side. She had bought lobster bisque, as well, and a few nice bottles of wine. She had even made a cheesecake from scratch for dessert.
They were just sitting down to dinner (A Christmas Story still playing in the next room), when they heard the front door creak open.
Eponine got up, curiously striding into the living room. Everyone had gone home, so who the hell would have a key to get in?
Enjolras.
Of course it would be him.
He was standing in the doorway, his duffel bag on the floor. When she walked in, he gave her that charming smile of his and opened his arms with a shrug.
"Merry Christmas!" he said, pulling her into a hug. He was still wearing his coat.
"Merry Christmas, Enj," she replied, her heart quickening a bit. "What the hell are you doing here?"
He shrugged, unbuttoning his coat and hanging it and his red scarf on the pegs next to the door. "I had a solid few days with my family, and a wonderful morning, but I felt bad about you three being here all alone." He slipped his arm around her shoulder. "You guys are my family, too, so I hopped on the train a few hours ago and came home."
Eponine's arm had snaked its way around his waist without her evening noticing. "Are you hungry? I cooked!"
"Yes, I'm starving," he told her.
"GAV!" she shouted into the kitchen. "Enjolras is home, set another place!"
"I have a present for you," he said, taking her by the hand and dragging her to the tree. It was still full of their gifts for their friends, who were all returning the following day.
He handed her a small, long box, wrapped to perfection in festive red paper.
In response, Eponine handed him a large gift, also wrapped in red, though the wrap job was incredibly sloppy. It made Enjolras laugh; Eponine did not have the patience for wrapping, especially when she had had so many gifts to do.
"Count of three?" he asked. She nodded, a somewhat apprehensive smile on her face.
"One… two… three!"
They tore the paper off, each racing to get there first.
Eponine won, given that her gift was so small. When she ripped the paper off, it revealed a blue box. When she took off the lid, she found a silver anchor necklace on a black cord. Her breath hitched in her throat.
"I got it from Grantaire's sister. She just graduated with her degree in jewelry design, and she made it herself. If you don't like it –."
The look Eponine gave him silenced him. "Enjolras, it's beautiful," she whispered. Her heart was beating quickly. She picked it up, unceremoniously dropping the box (Enjolras couldn't help but grin), and tried to latch it around her neck. When she failed, he gently took the ends with fingers that burned like fire against the brush of her own, and she turned, holding up her long tresses to let him clasp it. His touch against her neck sent a chill down her spine and left a trail of delicious heat and goosebumps in its wake.
He breathed in heavily the scent of her hair.
When she turned back around, their faces were inches apart. Her hand was daintily holding the pendant.
A moment passed, in which Eponine began to panic. What were they doing? They were friends! Before she could stop herself, she was unconvincingly whispering, "Gran- R's sister is very talented," offering him a sheepish grin.
Enjolras stepped back, and gave a noncommittal grunt in agreement.
Damn, trust her to ruin a moment.
They stared at each other for another moment before Eponine awkwardly cleared her throat and gestured to his half-unwrapped, abandoned gift. He had set it on the coffee table to clasp her new necklace.
"Open it," she insisted, voice still weak.
Enjolras pulled off the rest of the paper, which floated forgotten to the floor, to reveal a large book.
Eponine was biting her lip, suddenly nervous, as he ran a gentle hand over it.
It was leather-bound, heavy, and old.
"The Best-Known Works of Voltaire," he read, voice slightly awed, "The Complete Romances."
He looked up at her, a rather unrecognizable look in his eye.
"Eponine, this – this is incredible."
"This copy was published in 1940," she said. It was brown, and the title the edges of the pages were a shiny gold.
He was cradling the book as though it were a baby, pulling her into a tight, one-armed hug with his free hand.
"Thank you," he whispered into her ear.
She couldn't help nuzzling her head into her neck.
"Back at you," she whispered.
They stood there for a long moment, suddenly completely unable to let one another go.
"The food is getting cold, for fuck's sake! Can't you two have Merry Christmas sex later?" complained Azelma loudly, standing with Gavroche in the doorway.
They broke apart, but Enjolras was grinning at her, and Eponine couldn't help but smirk in return.
When Gavroche and Azelma went to bed later that night – Eponine had given Azelma her bed and had opted to sleep in Enjolras' while he was gone – Eponine found herself tight in Enjolras' embrace.
"I missed you," he murmured against her jaw, his mouth slowly making its way up to hers.
She leaned her forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes. Even though they had only been apart for a few days, she had felt so alone and bored without him, though she hadn't even noticed until he got back.
"I missed you," she whispered back, her hands entwined in his golden curls.
His eyes were so blue, so clear as they bored into hers. For a moment, it felt like she was staring into the ocean.
Then his hand began to move, churning against her like the roiling waves far out to sea, and Eponine ceased to see at all.
Thank you all for reading/reviewing/following!
YOU'RE ALL THE BEST THANKS WINNERS STAY EXCELLENT!