A/N: Hello! This is a rewrite of a rewrite of a fic from my old account, which is not even worth mentioning because all the fanfics there are terrible. This plot has been on my mind a lot as of late, so I figured I'd try again. Some of it might be very close to my other rewrite, but some things might change. I am not sure yet.
Chapter 1
His lips pressed hungrily against hers. She pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together and her fingers entangled in his hair. His hands slipped under her shirt, and she gasped at the sensation of his hands on her bare flesh. He sloppily reached around her back to undo the fastenings on her corset, which fell to their feet. With a gentle hand, he hitched her leg around his waist, her torn skirt allowing for this sort of flexibility.
"Wait," Éponine murmured, her lips still against his. She placed her hands on his to stop them from moving further up her waist. He started to kiss her neck, and she couldn't suppress a giggle. "Marius! Someone might see."
They were still in the hallway of the Gorbeau House: They hadn't even made it into his apartment. Marius pushed the door open, not even realizing that he hadn't unlocked it—the lock had never truly worked anyway—nor that he hadn't even needed to turn the door knob. Security, at the Gorbeau House, was imaginary. The locks were all broken, but it didn't really matter for no one there had anything worth stealing.
The Gorbeau House, generally, was a place of misery in which the inhabitants suffered a life of squalor and destitution. There was not often happiness to be found there, nor many dreams of achieving such bliss. It was a house, sure enough, but never a home.
Grinning crookedly, Marius lifted Éponine and carried her inside to his bed, nearly tripping over a few stray books. The corset lay forgotten in the hallway.
Yes, Marius Pontmercy was very drunk. For that matter, so was Éponine. As such, she was easily able to ignore that and live in the moment.
...
When Éponine awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She rolled onto her side and her eyes widened when she came face to face with a sleeping Marius. Even with his mouth hanging open and his hair sticking up every which way, she found him beautiful.
So she hadn't imagined it. She hadn't dreamed it. It had actually happened. Éponine's cheeks flushed pink. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. How had it all started exactly? Who had initiated it? Éponine found she couldn't quite remember, but she realized elatedly that it didn't really matter. Surely, this must mean that Marius felt the same way as she. He had kissed her—oh! how he had kissed her—and held her in his arms, which weren't quite muscular but were solid all the same.
She lifted a hand to her mouth, sure that she could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers. She turned her head to look at him. Marius… Her Marius… She liked the sound of that. She cuddled closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. Marius, already on his side, wrapped an arm around her, instinctively nuzzling closer to the warmth her body radiated.
It was cold outside, and as such, it was cold in Gorbeau House, which offered very little in the way of insulation.
She raised her hand to touch his cheek, but stopped inches from it. She didn't want to wake him. Instead, she molded her body to his and closed her eyes. She fell into a light doze, not fully asleep yet not wholly awake either. She imagined how the rest of the day might unfold. Would she spend it with Marius? Or would she have to devote the day to delivering her father's letters?
Éponine sat up quickly, unaware of Marius's responding groan.
"Shit," she muttered, quickly extricating herself from his arms and scrambling to her feet. Marius shifted in his sleep, but he did not wake.
She hadn't gone home the night before. Her father would be furious. She scrambled to find her clothes, which were strewn around the room. She swore under her breath when she realized her corset was nowhere to be found; she would have to go without. Damn. It had been her only one. As quietly as possible, so as not to wake the sleeping Marius, she dressed and headed for the door. Marius was oblivious to her departure and to the world as a whole.
Outside in the hallway, she recalled where the corset had been left, only it was no longer there. Probably some other poor tenant of the Gorbeau House had seen it and taken it as her own. Oh well. There wasn't much Éponine could do about that.
Walking a few steps to the apartment next to Marius's, Éponine fished around in her skirt pocket for a key and entered her family's apartment. Though she knew the locks were useless, it was important to maintain appearances lest some other tenants get ideas.
Fortune smiled on the Jondrette girl, for her father was not yet awake. When she entered the small room, her father's snores greeted her, and her mother and sister turned to look at her. Meek Azelma was curled up by the small fireplace in which only a few burning embers remained, and her very large, very blonde mother sat at the small table at which the Thénardiers ate their meager meals, when they could afford to eat. That morning was not one such morning.
"'Ponine," Azelma murmured quietly in way of greeting. Their mother merely grunted in Éponine's direction.
Azelma stood and walked over to her sister. She took her hands in her own rather cold ones, biting her lip. Éponine frowned.
"What's wrong, 'Zelma?" She asked quietly, her brow furrowed in concern.
"I'm so sorry, 'Ponine," Azelma whispered, "but that boy you like, that Monsieur Marius fellow... He was with a girl last night. I found her corset in the hallway." The words came out very quickly. Éponine opened her mouth to speak, but Azelma kept going. "But don't worry! I snatched it and threw it out in the snow. She'll have a great job finding it."
Éponine nearly laughed. Her lips twitched upward.
"You're not sad?" Azelma asked her. Éponine shook her head, unable to withhold a smile. Azelma's eyes looked back and forth between her sister's, searching for some sort of explanation, then widened in understanding. "It was yours?" She mouthed. Éponine gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Her mother noticed anyway.
"He pay you?" Mother Thénardier asked.
"M-Mother!" Éponine spluttered.
"So you're out all night and you've got no money to show for it? Your father won't be pleased. 'Zel was out till sun up and she brought back nearly three francs. You know how he is."
"It was just one night..."
"You'd better get out there and get some rond. Your father hit the bottle hard last night: You've got time. Go."
"I'll go with," said Azelma. "Maybe we can find your corset."
...
The sun outside shone brightly, despite the cold wind. The bit of snow that had fallen the previous night glittered in the sunlight.
"It was around here..." Azelma was saying, leading her sister down an alleyway. "I kinda just ran out and chucked it. I was so angry on your behalf, you know. Sorry, 'Ponine. I never imagined it was yours."
"Nah, it's fine," Éponine replied. "I wouldn't have guessed either. 'Zelma, we really need to get you some shoes. Look at how red your feet are!" The younger sister was barefooted. "I imagine the church would probably—"
"No way," said Azelma quickly, cutting her off. "Those wooden shoes really pinch. I'd rather go without."
"Then take mine." Éponine had managed to nick some proper boots from a small shop the year before. They were worn, but at least they were boots.
"I'm not taking your boots. I'll be fine. Ah, look! There it is." She skipped over to an old, slightly yellowed corset, which lay in the snow. She picked it up and handed it to her sister. "Le-voilà!"
Éponine smiled softly and took the corset. She took a quick look around and, seeing no one else in the alley, slipped it under her shirt.
"Jesus, it's cold!"
"Well, yeah," said Azelma in a teasing tone, "it was in the snow."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Do me up, would you?" She turned so that her back was to Azelma, who quickly tied the corset for her. "Thanks." Suppressing a shiver, she added under her breath: "Snow in November..."
The two continued on, heading towards the Pont Neuf to cross over to l'Île de la Cité. With any luck, there would be some wealthy church-goers from the newly repopularized Notre-Dame they could pickpocket, though the church had seen fewer attendees since the sacristy had been plundered a few months earlier by anti-Legitimists. Still, there was usually a fair amount of people there, many of them quite wealthy.
Defying all odds, Éponine was rather fortunate and within a couple of hours, the sisters had nicked one franc and ten sous between them.
"With what I got last night, we can have a proper feast!" Azelma was saying as the two neared the Gorbeau House. "Dad'll be pleased."
"Father's never really pleased though, is he?"
"Eh, but you'll be spared a beating," Azelma said brightly. "Ooh, look!" She said suddenly, elbowing Éponine in the ribs. "It's your Monsieur Marius."
Éponine looked up to see Marius leaving the Gorbeau House. He caught sight of them and started towards them. Éponine smiled widely.
"Why, good afternoon, Monsieur Marius."
"Hello, 'Ponine," he said in a subdued voice. Then he closed his eyes. "Ah, why does the sun have to be so bright?"
"Feeling a little rough then, are you?"
"More than a little. What exactly happened last night?" he asked. "I remember rather foolishly accepting Grantaire's challenge to see who could drink the most and then... nothing."
Éponine's face fell.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing after the first few drinks. Hey, are you all right?" Though he noticed few things, Marius had noticed the change in his friend's expression.
"Fine," Éponine replied, her voice very tight.
"So, er, what happened after that? Did I win?"
Éponine let out a short bark of a laugh.
"No, of course you didn't. Even I drank more than you did. It quickly became quite obvious that you can't handle your liquor." Her tone was cold, almost mocking. "After you fell out of your chair, Combeferre cut you off, so I said I'd bring you home."
"And...?"
"I brought you home."
"So I didn't embarrass myself. That's good. I have a tendency to—"
"Oh, I didn't say that," she said in a hard voice, her eyes like daggers. "You danced with everyone at the Musain last night, even an unwilling Enjolras. You pulled him up from his chair, and I swear he nearly decked you"
Marius laughed a bit despite himself. "That much is to be expected, I think. I was so terribly foolish to accept the challenge. I ought to expect a bit of embarrassment, I suppose. Well thank you for bringing me home. II can always count on you, 'Ponine. You're a good friend. Courfeyrac probably would have brought me to a different tavern. You know how he is. He would have wanted to see me properly soused."
When Éponine responded only with stony silence, Marius frowned in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine." She pushed past him to walk inside, and Azelma followed, biting her lip.
"H-Hey, I'll see you around, right?" Marius called after her, feeling as though he'd somehow said something very wrong.
"Well, seeing as we're neighbours..." With that Éponine entered the building, Azelma right behind her, leaving behind a very confused Marius.
"'Ponine?" Azelma said gently.
"I don't want to talk about it," Éponine said shortly.
"But 'Ponine..."
"It was nothing. Last night meant nothing. Just leave it, 'Zel." And she continued up the steps to their apartment.