A/N: So there's a bit of language in this one. I don't know if it makes any difference, but I thought I'd offer a warning.

I wanted this up about twelve hours ago. But guess what? My Microsoft Word crashed. And I lost the entire chapter. So I've been rewriting it on and off all day.

If you think I'm trying to make you pity me so you'll review, you're right. Just kidding. Sort of.

It's a bit of a filler... we get to the good stuff next week.

Enjoy!

And now you are hurt, and you are sure I could not be hurt too
And just because you're bleeding you think that I'm not bleeding
And just because you're full of yourself doesn't mean I'm not full of you

-Wakey!Wakey!, Car Crash

Jehan and Barhorel entered together. Bahorel was looking extremely frustrated, and Jehan was apologizing profusely.

"What happened?" Combeferre asked. He, Enjolras, and Feuilly were the first to arrive at Musain, and were already seated.

"Somebody found a dead bird on the side of the road. We had to stop to give it a proper funeral," Bahorel answered, crossing his arms and giving a stern sideways glance to his friend.

"Well we couldn't just leave its poor body sitting there, decomposing like a used napkin for the world to see. It deserved to rest in peace," Jehan told them.

"It was a fucking pigeon," Bahorel spat.

Courfeyrac had been sitting in the opposite corner, sucking face with a girl who's name—Éponine could rightfully assume—Courfeyrac didn't himself know. But the girl was leaving, so he turned to his friend and said, "Bahorel, we all know you're late all the time anyway. I don't see how it makes a difference."

Bahorel would have argued that if he could.

Éponine brought Jehan and Bahorel their usual drinks as they sat down. Despite being new to the job, she caught on fast and had almost everyone's drink memorized by now. It was helpful that not only did they get the same thing every time, but their drinks seemed to complement their personalities.

Grantaire was the next to stumble in, clutching his temples in his palms. "Christ, Ep, do you have anything for a hangover?"

"More beer," Éponine said, already pulling out the bottle from the fridge underneath the counter.

"I like the way you think," he said, raising the glass to her before chugging it. She was already in the process of getting him another one when he went to sit with his friends.

While handing Grantaire the beer, Combeferre took notice of Eponine's bandaged hand. "What happened?" he asked, motioning towards the wound.

"Oh. That." She pulled down her sleeve. She had been doing a fairly good job of keeping it covered until then. "It's nothing."

"Anyone we need to beat up?" Bahorel offered.

Éponine laughed, and Enjolras looked up. But he didn't look at her, she noted for the hundredth time that day. It wasn't as if he just happened to not look at her. He was purposely avoiding her gaze.

"No," she said. "I just dropped a mug. Cut myself picking up the pieces."

"I thought Enjolras was the one that dropped it," a voice said from behind her. It was Joly, who just arrived with Bossuet.

"I was handing it to her," Enjolras said, looking at his friend. Still not looking at me. "We both sort of dropped it."

"That sounds like something I would do," Bossuet said.

"Except you'd fall face-first into the pieces and put your eye out," said Joly, laughing.

The prematurely-balding man nodded in agreement.

"Do you want me to take a look at your hand after the meeting?" Joly said to her.

Éponine nodded, even though that's exactly the opposite of what she wanted. She was finding increasingly difficult to say 'no' these days, particularly to the Les Amis. To be fair, they didn't usually ask for much more than an opinion, which she shared freely anyway. And there was really only one person she wouldn't dream of saying 'no' to.

As if on cue, Marius walked through the door.

He was beaming. There was no other word to describe it. Éponine was delighted, delighted and crushed at the same time. Because her friend was happy, but it was another girl's doing.

"Marius!" she exclaimed.

"Éponine!" he practically skipped over to her and the boys. He grabbed her tightly, practically lifting her off of the ground. Her skin tingled all over.

"I have to tell you about Cosette! She's perfect, perfect in every way!" he laughed.

Her skin went from tingling to burning.

"Sit down, Marius, and tell us about her," Grantaire said. He couldn't have cared less about the boy's heart, but he knew it would irritate everyone else to no end. The pleasure he got from annoying the other boys, particularly their leader, far outweighed his general dislike for Marius's tendency to overshare his feelings.

"She's almost too spectacular to describe. She's humble, and kind, and funny—"

"Oh, really?" Grantaire chimed in. "Do tell us more." He propped his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands, apparently seeking to dive further into the topic. Bahorel flicked him in the ear.

Marius, though, was too filled with thoughts of his love to realize Grantaire was teasing. "She's… well… she's like… it's like…" Marius was hopeless at finding the right words. "She's like something from a dream," he said.

Éponine didn't mean to, but she audibly scoffed. The boys all looked at her—except Marius, who was too lost in his daydreams, and Enjolras, whose excuse she didn't know, except that maybe he was too focused on his notes.

"Marius, maybe now's not the best time," Courfeyrac said. Marius may have been his best friend, but he knew no one else really cared about his situation. Not at the moment, anyway.

"You're with a different girl almost every night," Marius said, a little defensive. "Nobody ever says anything to you."

"Probably because he's with a different one every night," Bahorel answered.

"That sounds lonely," Jehan whispered.

Combeferre sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Can we get back to France, guys?" Feuilly said.

"Yeah, guys, knock it off. You're going to upset the delicate internal balance of our temperate, if not secretly sentimental, leader," Grantaire said.

"I don't think 'temperate' is the right word, R," Bossuet said.

"I'm too drunk to care."

"I just wish you guys knew what it was like to know someone so wonderful, so… so flawless…."

Éponine swore she could she could see steam coming off of Enjolras's forehead. "Marius, we are sitting here quite literally planning on overthrowing the government. And you really want to talk about some girl you barely know? I think we've got bigger situations to discuss than your feelings." He said the last word with particular disdain.

Everyone but Marius watched as Éponine turned away and headed back to the bar, apparently done with the discussion herself.

Jehan and Bahorel were the first to leave. After a few cups of coffee—which Éponine may or may not have put whiskey in—Bahorel was no longer so irritated at his friend. Then was Feuilly, who had to work, and Bossuet, who had to take Grantaire home. The latter was, everyone else admitted, a bad idea; asking the man with the worst luck in the world to take a drunk home was really just asking for disaster. But somebody had to do it, and Bossuet was, as always, more than willing to help.

Enjolras was the next to leave, much earlier than usual. Granted, he usually left at closing. He shoved his notes into his bag, said goodbye to his friends, gave a quick nod to Éponine, and left. Probably didn't want to get stuck walking me home again, Éponine thought. At least he finally looked at me.

Éponine was used to being ignored. She lived on the streets for half her life, after all. She was used to people avoiding her gaze. But those people were usually strangers. Every other member of Les Amis was nice to her; she was almost comfortable with the term 'friend'. So what the hell is his problem?

When it was almost closing time, and Éponine could safely assume that no other customers would be bursting through the door, she allowed Joly to examine her hand. Combeferre asked if he could watch the medical student work, not because he had any special interest in the medical field, but rather because he just liked the general idea of learning.

This was actually more convenient for Éponine, because she wanted to get both of their thoughts.

"So… um… can I get your guys' help on something?" she began awkwardly. She was sitting across the table from the two men.

Joly looked up, a bit startled. "I seriously doubt either of us could be of much assistance," he gulped.

"But we'll try," Combeferre added calmly.

They think it's about Marius. "It's about my sister," she said. Joly's face seemed to relax a little. "She's getting out of juvie. In about a week, I think. I'm going to apply for custody tomorrow. Only, I'm not sure if I can figure out the paperwork. Would you two be willing to help me with it? If I need it? I'd ask Courfeyrac, but he's already done so much, and Marius is, well…."

Éponine hated asking for help. No, she loathed it. It went against everything she was taught. But this was her sister, who she loved. And she knew that sometimes we do stupid, detestable things for the people we love.

"Well, sure," Joly said. "But didn't you already go through it with Gavroche?"

Éponine snorted. "Gavroche doesn't belong to anyone. He crashes at my place sometimes, that's it." Actually, he stayed over every night he wasn't with Courfeyrac. But she had no legal documents to show her guardianship. Anything the school had was faked, which wasn't hard to do with her connections.

"I think Enjolras could help you better than either of us," Combeferre said. "He's the law student, after all."

Éponine's eyebrow twitched. "I don't think he'd want to help me."

"Why not? Enjolras wants to help everyone. That's kind of his problem," Combeferre said.

"I think he wants to help strangers. But not me. I don't think he likes me very much."

Combeferre chuckled. "He gives everyone that impression. He just has a really hard time making friends, to be honest. He's too focused on his universal ideas; I think he sometimes forgets to treat us as individuals."

Éponine nodded. She agreed with Combeferre's statement, but didn't really think it applied to her situation.

"It doesn't help that you're a girl," Joly said, barely a whisper.

"What?" Combeferre asked.

"Nothing," Joly said quickly. "All done," he told Éponine, giving her back her rewrapped hand. "Looks fine."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," she said, standing.

With only five minutes left till close, Éponine began to stack the chairs on the tables. Combeferre's phone suddenly went off, startling Éponine. For some reason, he didn't really strike her as the type of person who believed in having a phone. She overheard a few pieces; "Yeah, yeah I am… yeah… Joly or I could just… you sure?... yeah, okay, I'll ask."

Éponine turned to the young philosopher. "Hey, 'Ponine, Enjolras is on the phone. He wants to know if you want a ride home. He says he refuses to walk though?" Combeferre said the last part as a question, apparently ignorant of last night's events.

No. Hell no. No thanks. God, no. Nope. Nononono. "Sure."

A/N:

That probably seemed pretty out of character, no? Don't worry, I'm gonna make it work (or at least try really hard to).

You can't actually think I'd make him all sentimental now?

Ha.

Again, sorry about the filler-ness of it all.

Until next time!