So it turns out I suck at relaxing in the Sun - I've been in Crete 4 days, read 5 books (including Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell and The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out His Window And Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson - both FANTASTIC) and updated my stories more than I have in weeks... oops! Still, I've done in with a drink in my hand and the Sun on my poor sunburnt body, which is pretty nice.
While I'm on the subject, I'll just mention - I've got an Eponine/Courfeyrac story on the go at the minute called I Like You - it's just a bit of silliness really, but if you're interested please feel free to check it out! No pressure whatsoever, I won't sit you down with cocktail sticks holding your eyes open and force you to read it... probably. No, I definitely won't. Geographical restraints.
Anyhoo thank you all for your feedback on the last chapter, I love hearing from you! You guys are the best, I'm so lucky to have such active and wonderful readers :)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Les Miserables. I just like to kidnap them for a while and raise them as my own.
Waking up is never normally especially fun; in fact, Éponine normally actively avoided doing it for as long as she could. But waking up slowly, when your breath is mingling with someone else's and your legs are tangled together with theirs, somehow more aware of your entirely naked body and the way it moves – muscles and bones co-operating in ways they never have before – is infinitely nicer. You feel different – like a new part of you has been discovered – and yet more like yourself than you ever have before. Your arms and legs feel closer to you and more detached. You feel every point of contact like an electrical charge against your skin; when one of you moves, sliding skin against skin, it makes you feel somehow more alive. So while Éponine's mind ambled its way from sleeping to waking the next morning, she didn't open her eyes for a long time. There was far too much to take in before that.
When she finally fluttered her lashes apart, the first light of the morning hitting her eyes like a train, a smile followed almost instantly. She couldn't remember ever feeling as complete as she did that morning, wrapped in the strong, sleeping arms of her Enjolras. Without even trying, he exuded strength; from his high, aristocratic cheekbones and sharp, strong, stubble-dusted jawline to the smooth, supple power of his chest and arms, wrapped around her like a force-field between her and the world. But now she was closer she could look deeper, could see the fragile beauty in him, too: the feathery, thick blonde eyelashes; the downy-soft baby curls above his temples; the dusting of freckles across his collarbone. These and other small betrayals of mortality in his god-like exterior filled her heart to the brim, and she just barely resisted the urge to kiss them all there and then.
As she lay there, flashes of the night before crossed her mind: his finger sliding lightly along her jawline, his breath in her ear, the final moments of ecstasy falling from their lips like prayers as they united, weaker and stronger than they could ever have been apart. Not quite heaven. Not quite hell.
Before her head could stop her, she inched her face forward to kiss him gently awake. It took barely a second for his startled eyes to smile, a sleepy index finger making its way to the crook of her chin as he kissed her slowly, intimately. Leaning his head forward so their foreheads touched, he broke the kiss with a contented sigh. "I can't think of a nicer wake-up call, Miss Thénardier" he whispered, his voice thick from sleep. "Or, come to that, a nicer way to fall asleep."
"I can definitely think of worse things" she breathed back, bringing a hand up to gently stroke the downy curls above his temple.
Neither spoke for a minute or two; he just watched her as she played with his hair, an almost wondering smile on his face. "Yeah" Éponine continued. "I could definitely get used this."
"Me too." They shared a smile.
"Can we not get out of bed yet? Let's stay here for a while."
"Ok. We won't go anywhere" Enjolras agreed with a warm smile. Éponine shuffled closer, her face snuggled into the place where his collarbone met his neck. He smelled like clean sheets and cinnamon, as well as something so masculine, so Enjolras she couldn't name it. She wanted never to smell anything else again.
"Tell me something true" she murmured into him. "Something you've never told me before."
He kissed her head fondly. "Like what?"
"When I'm really sad or lonely, I like to go to the river and sit on the barrier so I can see the reflection of the lights, when they're all misty, and it looks like a different world."
Is there anything about this girl that isn't beautiful? He wondered, smiling as he pictured her there, watching the river float by. "I'd already heard you sing before that night on Rue Plumet. I was walking home from the café the night I met you when I heard someone crying then singing, and I couldn't stop myself from listening so I followed them to the river… and it was you."
Her breathing caught for a second, before she breathed "that was you?"
"You saw me?"
"I saw someone in the shadows. Assumed it was Montparnasse."
"Nope. Me."
"Wow, that's… wow. I didn't know that. Ok, erm… there's an alcove in Notre Dame I hide in when I'm scared. Wait no, I've already told you that! Hmm… when you found me at the Rue Plumet, and I was really surprised? Well I was surprised it was you who came, but looking back I think I was more surprised that I really wanted it to be you who came."
He felt his chest swell with pride. "I'm glad it was me who came" he whispered into her hair, dropping a kiss there before continuing. "Erm… I hated Montparnasse more than I've ever hated anyone, because he looked at you like you were nothing, and it was like you believed him. Even though we were barely even friends, deep down I knew you were everything."
He felt her smile before she whispered "the first time I met you I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. And you were staring at me like I'd just appeared out of thin air in front of you. So when you didn't shake my hand it pissed me off even more, because in my head it was like you thought I was too dirty to even be worthy of your time or something."
"I stared at you because you affected me, in the way girls normally don't. Like when you looked at me, your eyes seemed so young and so old at the same time - and then when you smiled at me it lit up the entire street. And you seemed so unaware of it all, like you'd never noticed the way you move people. And you gave off this air, all cool and tough and sexy. No wonder my brain didn't catch up in time to shake your hand."
"You daft old softy" she whispered, kissing his collarbone. "You're the sweetest. But you already told me that." She was clearly grinning. "On my birthday, when we walked home."
"I did?"
"Yep! So that means I get to ask you any question I want and you have to answer."
"I really should have asked for the rules of this game in advance…" he muttered.
"Ahh but I'm making them up as I go along, so you'd still lose" she joked. Nuzzling into his neck so that her hair tickled his jaw, she mumbled "hmmm, what to ask, what to ask… Ooh, I know!"As she exclaimed the last part, she leaned back, plopping her head onto the pillow facing him with a wicked grin.
Well now I'm nervous.
"What's your first name?" she asked, still grinning.
Nooooo way. "Nope" Enjolras replied, eyes wide, repressing a smile.
"Come oooon, you have to tell me!"
"Nooo I don't!"
Her eyebrows raised and jaw dropped in mocking shock, she exclaimed "Monsieur Enjolras, for shame! First you spend an evening ravaging my virtue – in this very bed, no less – and then you won't even tell me your name?! How will I know what to carve into the tree when you run off to fight wars in my honour!?"
"Ravaging your virtue?" he laughed.
"I'd consider it pretty thoroughly ravaged, yes!"
"Didn't you ravage mine too, then?"
"Yeah, but you already know my name. Names. All of them, even my stupid middle one."
"Juliette" he grinned, his voice a teasing sing-song as he tickled her sides.
She squirmed. "Don't! Ahh! Stop it, or I'll tell Courfeyrac your name's Elvendork!"
He stopped tickling. "Ok, I'll tell you. But if you tell Courfeyrac - or anyone else for that matter – I'll never ravage your virtue again. I'll go straight off to fight the wars, and I won't even tell anyone it was in your honour."
Éponine laughed quietly. "Deal."
Gahhh she's going to take the piss. "Ok, I'm going to preface this by saying my Mother likes old-fashioned names."
"Dude, I'm called Éponine."
"So I'm Jean, after my father –"
"YOU COMPLAINED THIS MUCH ABOUT JEAN?!"
"But to tell us apart, and so she could call me something else, it's double-barrelled with… don't you dare laugh."
"Me?! As if I would!" she mock protested.
"This is not making me feel better."
"JUST TELL ME!"
"Gabriel" he mumbled.
"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that" she teased, her wide grin telling him she absolutely had heard.
"Gabriel"
"That's the most precious thing I've ever heard. Mummy's little angel! This is brilliant, I'm shagging an actual servant of the Lord, I'm so going to heaven!"
"Shut up" he grumbled. He didn't really mind though.
"Perfect Gabriel. Angel Gabriel. Little Gabe. Oh my God can I call you Gabe? I'm calling you Gabe."
"Please don't call me Gabriel" he laughed. "And do you really think I'm a Gabe?"
"I'm not really an Éponine but that doesn't mean I make you call me Thénardier!"
"But you are, you're all romantic and mysterious and –"
"Piss off, Gabe, I am not romantic and mysterious"
"Éponine Juliette. Such a lady."
"Ok, ok, I won't call you Gabe."
"Thank you."
"…when anyone else is around." He laughed, and kissed her nose. "I can live with that."
They tried to go about their normal day that day, they really did. But Éponine wasn't working until the night time, and it was so unusual for the apartment to be completely empty…
For example, Enjolras really needed a shower before university; he always had a shower in the morning. And it only made economic sense to have Éponine in there with him. Conserving water and all that. How could they have known it'd end up like it did, with Éponine's soapy back pressed against the tiles?
And he'd have been late for his first lecture even if he threw on clothes and sprinted all the way there. So he might as well not throw on clothes, and enjoy a leisurely breakfast with Éponine, really. They should treat themselves, too - croissants and pain au chocolat, with strawberries and Nutella, sat close together at the kitchen table. Or, as it turned out, on the kitchen table, with the croissants and pain au chocolat pretty much ignored. You couldn't blame him - it wasn't his fault she looked at him like that while she ate that chocolate strawberry. He was only human.
Admittedly, the sofa was his fault. But it was mostly because he really didn't want to watch The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills.
And they both completely intended to get dressed and behave sensibly later on that afternoon. They even nipped out to the university Law building to pick up his essay marks… and in Éponine's defence, the "10th floor" and "emergency stop" buttons in that elevator do look disturbingly similar. And once it was stuck, how else were they supposed to amuse themselves? It was a box.
A box they were stuck in for over two hours. This might have been because Éponine's foot hit the button again once they started going at each other the second time. Maybe.
Thénardier woke up around noon, groggily extracted himself from his bed and lumbered downstairs for a coffee and a cigarette. Barely awake, forty minutes later, the alarm on his phone went off – time to go and visit the wife again.
He thought about how ill she'd looked yesterday all the way there. Montparnasse had better come up with something fast, the little shit. She might not last much longer.
He trudged up to the desk in the waiting room. It was the same receptionist as yesterday; a short, stocky woman, with mousy brown hair. He must be looking good today or something, she wasn't giving him her usual look of disgust at his presence. Maybe she appreciated that he was visiting this often, most people didn't. Thénardier didn't like appearing to care about things, even his wife; probably best not to come again tomorrow.
When the prison guard came into the waiting room to bring him through, he stood up without a word. When asked to go into the guard's office instead of the visitors' room, he didn't object much – they were probably just trying to get information out of him again. Not unusual. Pointless though, did they really think he'd ever grass up the lads?
He didn't really register what the guard said. He had to ask him to repeat it with a gruff "you what?"
I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Thénardier.
We tried.
The doctor was helpless.
A combination of syphilis, TB, and plain old mistreatment, over a fair number of decades.
Buried in prison graveyard.
Visit any time.
Sorry again.
What did these words even mean? Aileen couldn't be dead. She didn't die from things. She got bad for a while, then he fixed it and she got better.
He couldn't be all alone in that inn.
He didn't want to visit her in the morgue, and she wouldn't have wanted him to, so he left. He barely registered the walk home; it was like someone else was telling his feet what to do, where to go.
Should he tell Montparnasse? Not much point in the boy bothering now. Although, at least with Éponine back, he wouldn't have to do any fucking cleaning… that decided it. The ungrateful wench could get her arse back here and do her share. And the lad would find her, he was sure of that.
He stood behind the bar a few hours later, surveying the room. All he had left in the world. "My band o' soaks" he announced, sitting down to join them with a beer and a bottle of whiskey all of his own. "Tell your ol' mate Thénardier somethin' s bit cheerful, would ya lads? Not 'avin' the best day."
Finally focussed enough to study, Enjolras sat at his desk, surrounded by books and papers. The light through the window was getting dimmer, casting shadows over Paris. He'd regret missing the day's lectures come finals time, he knew that. Even if it was a fairly fantastic day.
He didn't look up the when she came in, kneading his curls from behind with her fingers. He determinedly ignored the pool of heat building in his stomach, keeping his voice as level as possible as he said "Ép, much as I'd like to continue down this road, I really do need to study. I missed three lectures today, I need to catch up."
"Booooo catching up." She kissed his neck.
"Seriously. I need to. Later?"
Standing up, she kissed the top of his head once, and then headed for the door. "It's like you don't have time for hot, spontaneous sex six times a day any more" she sighed as she shut the door. He grinned as he went back to his books.
Had the apartment always been this boring? She tried to listen to music, tried to read her book, ate toast, scrolled through every channel on the TV…
She got right to the end, past the endless shopping channels and radio stations through to… the opportunity to wind Enjolras up. And when had she ever turned down an opportunity like that before?
She left the TV on a random radio station while she prepared herself. His shirt was still on the floor of the kitchen where they'd dropped it the night before. After a glance towards the window – come on, who's going to be watching through the window, Thénardier? Check the paranoia for a second – she smiled to herself and took off everything but her underwear – thank God she'd thought to buy some nice lacy ones a little while back – replacing her clothes with just his shirt. She was small enough that it hung to just past her butt, and if she rolled the sleeves up and left the top few buttons, she could probably look as good as the night before, she decided. And given the reaction that her in his clothes seemed to provoke, she might even look better.
Smiling to herself, she changed the channel to the next one up – We Heart MILFS. Perfect. – and turned the volume up to 100.
The crash from his room told her he'd knocked the lamp off his desk in his haste to stand up.
"WHAT are you doing?" he exclaimed as he barrelled through the door.
"Oh just watching a film" she replied, the picture of innocence. "Don't mind me, you keep studying."
Enjolras narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze flicking between her and the screen. "Favourite of yours?"
"Mm. One of Spielberg's early films, I think. You won't believe the twist ending."
"I bet." The woman on the screen sounded like she was in pain by this point.
"You go and study! I'll just be here, don't mind me!"
He was about to turn and go when he noticed what she was wearing. "Is that my shirt?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah. Found it in the kitchen. I was a bit hot and sweaty in all my clothes."
He glared at her, and she smiled innocently back. "I'll be studying" he said.
"OK!"
She turned back to We Heart MILFS, confident it wouldn't be for long. The way that woman was screeching there probably wasn't long left of this film anyway.
It only took five minutes before the shout came through from his room. "Hey, Éponine? Can you come in here so I can read you a bit of my paper before you go to work?"
She grinned and switched the TV off, jumping up to run through. He stood up from his desk as she entered his room, hands eagerly all over her body in seconds. "You're going to have to stop wearing my clothes" he murmured at her between kisses "if I'm going to pass my courses this year." He picked her up and placed her on his bed, covering her body with his own almost instantly.
As he kissed down her neck and collarbone, hands busy at her panties, she replied breathlessly "when it gets this reaction? Never."
Cute little horny babies, at it like rabbits. This was a fun one to write.
In other news, 40,000 views! That's INSANE, thank you all so, so much - I never imagined this would end up this long, or that so many lovely, supportive people would read it. You guys are awesome.
Reviews are like dughnuts. Or suncream for my poor back. Thanks lovelies!