Prompt: "Eponine and Enjolras in the shower together (together), and then the Amis knock, and their tops are both damp and an awkward conversation ensues, but the Amis are all smirking and trying to make it more awkward."

The pair (not-a-couple-thank-you-nothing's-official) is not alerted by the click of the lock. No, this sound is muted, drowned out by running water.

The next noise, however - the noise of the front door banging open to admit boisterous, if slightly muffled, voices - is audible.

She's got suds in her hair and he's blinking water from his eyes when they, startled, jerk away from each other, and the first word out of Éponine's mouth is a curse.

Enjolras is the one who actually thinks to turn the water off. He reaches for a towel much less aggressively than she, but there is a frown tugging down his lips.

She, still damp, yanks on her jeans with such savage ferocity that the motion that should, by all rights be downright ridiculous is made to seem less so, and as she does so, he hears her mutter, "should never have given out copies of the key."

He knows she doesn't mean it. After all, he helped her locate the place to make the copies, and knows well the reasoning, all drawn up in a neat little list - much of this centered on the well-being of the siblings who stay often enough in the apartment's guest room that she now simply calls it the 'kids' bedroom' in the unfortunate-but-not-unlikely scenarios that her parents make their return.

Éponine Thénardier is headstrong and willful but not reckless, never reckless when it comes to them, and she is going to pore over every action that involves them until she is sure that it could cause no harm.

(Never again, she'd told him, and there was that strength that he -

- well -

somethings her for.)

So, then, Éponine must have known this was a possibility before making copies, but at the moment, he can't help but agree with the sentiment.

Combeferre knows, naturally. As does Grantaire, actually - as hard, or as unwilling, for Éponine to keep secrets from him as it is for Enjolras to keep them from Combeferre.

And this is it.

Four should know, and only four. The pair does, after all, want to give themselves time to settle into this and figure out what this is.

Éponine attempts to, futilely, wring out her hair. "Forgot there was a meeting today, let alone here." She sends him a sidelong look and says, "this was your doing," and he smiles at the soft accusation.

"You agreed."

"I was… distracted. You didn't say anything about it today."

His smile turns a touch more wicked. "I was… distracted," he repeats.

"Hmmm. Yes." There is nothing bashful in the self-satisfied smile that spreads across her face, and it is only the knowledge that their friends are not only in the other room but will likely come looking for her that keeps him from beginning a repeat of their earlier actions.

When he is out of sight from the door, she joins the rest in the living room, adjusting immediately to the loud and jovial talk; he follows after minutes later, slipping in when there are less and less lulls in the conversations.

Of course, it doesn't work, and by the end of the night, everyone knows.

They know that Courfeyrac knows after one too many almost-sly comments; he confesses, quite cheerfully, that he had suspected, but never had any proof - until tonight. That Enjolras was there already when Éponine had so obviously been bathing raised suspicions, but the water seeping through his shirt gave it away entirely, he reports.

Enjolrs is honestly conflicted, torn between resignation, indignation, and amusement, until Éponine gives a bark of sharp laughter at this explanation, and this sets the tone.

Later, one of them curls their hand around the other's, fingers intertwining and resting there together. They will argue teasingly over who was the first to make such a public spectacle, in the months to come.

It is tenuous, far from the best way to make it official, and Enjolras was right - they never let him live it down.

(Although, as it turns out - he doesn't particularly mind. No, with the way the recollection makes her grin, he finds he doesn't mind at all.)