A.N. Hey peoples. So a few of you guys might be wondering why I deleted Hearts Full of Love. Well, a few people made very hurtful and insulting comments on it. I didn't feel the need to continue it on this site, but it will be posted on a different site.
Anyways, this story is for my absolute best friend, Miss-Misto. She and I were playing monopoly last week from 6:30 pm to 11:30 pm and we made a bet. If I won, she would write a CATS one-shot for me with the pairing of my choice. If she won, I would write her an Eponine/Enjolras fic for her. Unfortunately, after four hours of playing, I won. But, I decided to surprise her and write her the fic anyways. SURPRISE MISSY!
This isn't gonna be the typical 'oh gosh, I never noticed her till this moment, but now I'm all madly in love with her and stuff'. No, I can promise that. I think this is a little different from the type of fic I usually write. I don't know why, but I do. So I hope you enjoy. R&R! OR MONTPARNASSE WILL FIND YOU!
Darkness engulfed the city of Paris, France, covering it like a heavy blanket. A chilled wind blew through the streets of Paris, making anyone who walked that night draw their coat closer around them. This was the case with a dark-haired young man who silently walked towards the Café Musain. His thick coat was wrapped tightly around his slim frame, sheltering him from the gusts. As he rushed towards the small building, he did not notice the thin frame of a shadow trailing him, staying out of the beams of light streaming from the street lamps.
Yet, the shadow did not notice the dark figure of a young man close behind them. As a small speck of light hit the figure, one could catch a glimpse of the gleam of a silver knife blade, strapped to his side. He did his best to draw his coat closer, concealing the knife, hoping not to be seen. He stuck close to the walls of buildings, his dark coat brushing against the brick, stone, and wood.
The dark-haired young man slipped through the door of the Café, relishing the wave of warmth. He shed his coat, draping it over one arm. He nodded politely when a blonde barmaid winked at him suggestively from behind the bar. Looking around, he opened a door to a back room. Without a sound, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Seconds later, a young gamin stepped into the café, tugging her cap self-consciously closer to her head. She looked around the small area, eyes searching for something. She approached the bar cautiously, avoiding the owner's eyes.
"''Scuse me Madame," she murmured. "''Ave ya seen a young man just come in 'ere?"
The owner, an older woman with black hair streaked with gray, glared at her through beady, dark eyes. She nodded, wiping out a mug, and acknowledged the door to the back room with her head. The gamin smiled in thanks and hurried to the door. She pressed her ear to it, trying to hear what was going on behind it. She heard muffled voices of young men, some raised in argument. One voice was higher, maybe a younger boy. She placed one grimy hand on the door knob, leaning for support. Apparently she leaned a little too hard because before she knew what was happening, the door swung open and she had fallen flat on her face.
"Merde," she cursed, perhaps a little too loudly, for she heard a gasp.
Slowly, she lifted her face from the floor to find eight pairs of confused eyes staring at her. A short young man with shiny black-brown curls, who sat the closest to her stood offered a petite hand to help her to her feet. His cheeks were covered in a deep blush. She guessed he had been the one who gasped. Embarrassedly, she took his hand and stood. She quickly retracted her hand, afraid she had dirtied the young man's hand. He blushed even deeper, smiled quickly, and took his seat again. The gamin looked around at the other men, searching desperately for the one young man she had hoped to find. When she caught his dark brown eyes, she blushed and smiled slightly. Taking her tattered brown skirt in both hands, she gave a shaky curtsey, making a few of the men chuckle. She heard one loud laugh from the back of the room. She knew that laugh anywhere.
"'Vroche! What the 'ell are ya doin' 'ere?"
The seven year old boy inched slowly behind a young man with soft, wavy chocolate colored hair. He peeked his small face out from behind the young man, grinning sheepishly. The young girl began to make her way back to the boy, but a tall man with blonde hair stood on her way. His stern face told her that he was not pleased.
"Mademoiselle, who are you and what is your business here? And what is it you want with Monsieur Gavroche?"
Gavroche looked immensely pleased with being referred to as Monsieur. The girl rolled her eyes but tried to be as polite as possible to the young man.
"M' name's 'Ponine. Eponine, actually. I," she blushed slightly under the dirt that coated her face. "I'm 'ere to see a friend. An' my business with that little rascal is 'e's me little brother and should be at home."
Gavroche folded his arms, pouting. He walked to stand beside the blonde man, glaring at Eponine.
"'Ponine, mum 'n' dad don't care whether 'm home or not. 'Sides, the Amis need me. I'm their leader!"
Eponine massaged her temple, aggravated. She glared at the blonde man.
"Monsieur, can ya please give your 'leader' permission ta come 'ome? Who are you anyways? And what is it me brother is leadin'?"
The tall man looked a bit insulted, blue eyes narrowing at the girl. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry Mademoiselle, I'm being terribly rude. My name is Enjolras. And I'm not quite sure this is any of your business."
Eponine placed her hands on her hips, an annoyed look covering her face. She glared at Enjolras, an angry glint in her eyes.
"'Scuse me, but anythin' me little brother's involved in happens to be A LOT of me business!"
"I'm sorry," Enjolras argued, taking an ominous step closer to her. "But it really is not."
Eponine's gaze hardened and she pressed her face closer to his. The rest of the young men watched the stare down nervously, knowing Enjolras's temper. One dark-haired man leaned into whisper something to his commrads.
"Believe me," he murmured. "She's a fair enough match for him."
Too himself, he added.