A/N: Quick update, but short. Sorry! (I'd say I'm also sorry for the cliffhanger as well but pfffffttt)
Loveless
Part VI
Summary: In Grantaire's honest and quite inebriated opinion, the best part about Enjolras falling for that scruffy gamine was that the poor girl in question seemed to have no idea. [Modern AU Enjolras/Éponine—Frustration is the name of this game]
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The café was silent when she walked in the next day, studiously avoiding the gaze of everyone around her. Passing her usual seat, Éponine made her way instead to the counter, where even the usually flawless Chetta looked worried at her odd behavior. A low chatter started to build in the background as she smiled wanly at the woman.
"Oh crap, something's wrong."
"No, no, I'm pretty sure you're just overreacting."
"Just look! She's gonna run, I know it."
"Would you all just calm down! She's just talking. I doubt that she's currently discussing the various routes to Mexico, as someone should stop talking about right now."
"Yea, 'Ponine seems the type to already know those."
"Whatever, I still say Enjolras is cursed."
"You idiot."
"Moron."
"Can I have your cap when he kills you?"
"Just shut up already!"
A snort. "Oh come off it. I mean, it's not like she ran away the first time you tried to talk to her…oh wait she did. Well, at least she didn't think you hated her guts…oh wait, she did. Who here can spell 'pattern'?"
"Grantaire, I hope you know the routes to Mexico."
"I'll pray for your immortal soul. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"Can I have the rest of your wine?"
"Shush, everybody! Chetta's freaking out!"
"Crap, she is."
"What's going on? Anybody hear?"
A sarcastic drawl that was just as anxious as it was biting. "Maybe if there was a little less chatter, we'd be able to hear it better."
"But then how do we tell each other what we heard?"
"Maybe if we—"
"Holy shit."
"Are you guys seeing that please tell me you're seeing that."
"For the love of—they're just hugging, calm down."
"No wait, someone take a picture, I think I can photoshop—"
"Why am I even here what did I do in a past life to deserve this—"
"Maybe you led all of us to our deaths?"
A beat. "Too real, man. Too real."
"Anyways, poor Enjolras over there's just upset cause he still didn't get a soft, warm hug from—ack!"
"Huh, never thought a neck could bend like that."
"…In my professional medical opinion, they shouldn't."
"Crap, get it together guys, she's coming over!"
Éponine raised an eyebrow at the group of men who appeared to be attempting to hide beneath a rather small center table. What resulted from this attempt was a pile of flailing limbs, knocking elbows, a grinning Courfeyrac who looked as if he was having the time of his life, and one highly esteemed and fuming blonde leader at the bottom of the pile—who currently had the slowly choking Jehan in a headlock.
Crouching down, she tried not to wrinkle the cloth in her hand too badly as she asked incredulously, "Do I even want to know?"
Still devoutly clutching a beer bottle in one hand even as was currently squished by several others, Grantaire shot her an upside-down mischievous grin. "I'd tell you, but then Enjolras would have to kill me."
Clawing his way away from the horde in a hurry that simply refused to be a scamper, the man in question gave the group a warning look before turning to Éponine. "It's nothing. What do you have there?"
His sudden gesture brought her away her intense scrutiny of Jehan as the blood rushed back into his face aided by a fussing Joly, and Éponine blinked owlishly in response. "Huh?"
"There." With a smooth movement of a hand that simply had to be manicured, Enjolras tapped her clasped hands once, leaving her to stare at them for a moment, confused as to why they were doing that. Oh, wait. Éponine shook off the haze that came with him coming so close and not scowling or looking as if he wanted to run away and opened her hands, revealing the offending article.
A scrunched up apron laid there, words blazoned across it that could either be 'Café Musain' or 'Camu sin'. Seeing as how she'd just been negotiating her wage with the eternally amused Chetta for the last few minutes, Éponine was of a mind that the former was probably the correct one.
She watched as the cogs quickly spun in Enjolras' head at a speed most would envy or despise, unable to prod him along with a quick, "So, I think I kinda work here now?"
It came out as more of a question than she'd meant it, but he only nodded his understanding and stated, "That's...acceptable," to which a sudden burst of groans answered from the grimacing ABC tutors behind them, who appeared to be less than happy about her new position. Or at least, she assumed it was that. Although Grantaire's sudden attachment to banging his head against the table seemed a bit much. Éponine frowned and opened her mouth to ask the matter, only to freeze in place when Enjolras's lips tilted into a quick smile aimed directly at her. Rational thought left her for a moment.
He turned and left quickly, smacking the now grinning Grantaire on the back of the head with his own overpriced wine bottle, but it wasn't until he'd assumed his seat on the opposite end of the cafe did all the air in her lungs see fit to return.
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Éponine told herself that her new-found grin had absolutely nothing to do with Enjolras' decidedly more pleasant attitude towards her. The streets and corners blurred together as she raced down them to collect the last of her belongings she'd hidden in the park. After finding out about her situation—and swearing on her soul that she wouldn't inform the boys no matter how much she thought it was a bad idea to leave them in the dark—Chette had offered the backroom to Éponine to crash in until she could afford a better apartment, and she was damn grateful for it.
All Éponine had to do now was grab her stuff out of the locker in the shelter, hoping no one had broken in in the few hours she'd left it unattended. This was the first one she'd stayed in since the protest that'd even had lockers, so she'd allowed herself the splurge of staying there a little longer than she usually did. She'd been intending to move to the next shelter in her rota soon, but now it seemed like that wasn't needed.
A bed. She would be sleeping in an actual bed tonight.
For Éponine, the thought was enough to have her walking on air, nevermind the memory of Enjolras' face as she'd explained her new occupation. It wasn't like she was thinking too much on that, of course not, she told herself as she turned the next corner and approached the shelter. It was simply that—
"Well, it looks like my dear 'Ponine is in a frightfully good mood. Did you miss your dear old da' that much?"