#epotaire

“Hang on,” Grantaire interjected. “Before games — Zelma, why don’t you show Enjolras the new dance shoes we bought with his gift card?”

Azelma smiled brightly. “Sure!” She hopped off the couch and went to fetch the shoes. 

Enjolras felt oddly flustered. The suggestion that Azelma show him her shoes made him feel as though he was being put in the spotlight. And while he was perfectly comfortable with the spotlight when delivering eloquent speeches or commanding the attention of a rally... in this family setting, he was quite out of his depth. 

Azelma returned a moment later, proudly wearing a pair of black lace-up shoes with a slight heel. “They’ve got suede soles for just the right amount of traction,” she told Enjolras. “Ideal for spinning and gliiiding...” She struck a pose on the last word and slid a couple feet across the floor. Then she grinned and extended both her hands to Grantaire. “Come on Grantaire, let’s demonstrate for him!”

Grantaire smiled and gently nudged Éponine, who was still lying with her head on his lap. She sat up and Grantaire pushed himself off the couch. As he drew near to Azelma, he took her right hand in his and placed his other hand on her upper back. Then, the two were gliding and twirling about the room, to whoops and cheers from Éponine and Gavroche. They appeared to switch dance styles a number of times, displaying everything in their repertoire. Enjolras didn’t know anything about dance styles, but when the graceful floating of the Waltz became the energetic pulses and kicks of the Lindy Hop, he was astute enough to remark the change. It was truly delightful to watch, and Enjolras found himself smiling in spite of his initial discomfort. 

Finally, Grantaire twirled Azelma into him and dropped her in a low dip.

Éponine and Gavroche clapped enthusiastically — and then Gavroche turned to his older sister with an impish grin.

“Okay, Ép’s turn!” he said, giving her a firm shove in the back so that she staggered forward. Azelma promptly stepped away, making room for Éponine. The latter looked rather stunned. “What? I don’t da—” 

But she was cut off by Grantaire who, laughing, promptly swept her towards him and began whisking her about the room. She shrieked, and at first tried to tug away. But Grantaire’s hold was firm and he continued carrying her with him through every step, even as her resistance caused her to stumble dreadfully. “Relax,” he said, smiling down at her with eyes that shone with fondness. “If you just relax, it will be easy. I’ve got you.” Éponine scowled up at him and opened her mouth to retort — but then he gave her right hand, which was clasped in his, an affectionate squeeze. “Come on,” he said. “Trust me.” 

She hesitated a moment — and then, the muscles in both her face and her body softened. Soon she was smiling as Grantaire moved her, much more easily now, through steps that she knew nothing of. 

It was indeed much improved after she relaxed; there was much less staggering and jerkiness as Éponine resisted Grantaire’s lead. Even so, however, it was not nearly as esthetically pleasing as watching Azelma and Grantaire dance. And yet... despite that inferiority, Enjolras found his chest tightening with emotion as he watched this pair, in a way that it had not while watching Grantaire dance with Azelma.

Whatever this was... whatever Éponine and Grantaire had... he wanted it. 

He wanted it on that day Éponine had stormed into the Cafe, enraged over her friend’s mistreatment, and ranted about everything that made Grantaire so wonderful. He wanted it when Grantaire packed up coffee for Éponine at Le Cafe Musain. He wanted it when he saw Grantaire doing Éponine’s grocery shopping. When he saw him putting away her dishes as though her apartment was his own home. When he saw how he interacted with Azelma and Gavroche, like he was an integral part of the Thénardier family. And he wanted it now, as he saw Éponine and Grantaire laughing and dancing and simply exuding sheer happiness.

Enjolras scarcely admitted feelings of a yearning nature to himself. Perhaps even at that very moment, he was not truly admitting them to himself. All the same, they showed on his face... Which was why, when Grantaire finally dipped Éponine to end the dance, his expression of simple joy faltered as he caught sight of Enjolras.

“Um...” Grantaire released Éponine and tugged awkwardly at his ear, his eyes fixed on Enjolras’s wistful face. “Do you... wanna try?” Uncertainly, he extended a hand towards Enjolras.  

A hot flush rose promptly to Enjolras’s face. His yearning expression vanished and was replaced with something much harder. “No thank you,” he said, and there was a chill in his voice that had not been there since he’d banned Grantaire from the ABC Meetings. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a show of checking the time. “I should head home,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for inviting me to your movie night.” And then, without further ceremony, Enjolras walked briskly to the door and exited. 

Grantaire was left staring at the closed door, devastation all across his face. Éponine was left staring up at Grantaire, wearing much the same expression. 

“I...” Grantaire passed a shaky hand over his eyes. “I made him uncomfortable. I didn’t mean... I wasn’t hitting on him, I just...”

“Fucking bastard.” Despite the aggressiveness of Éponine’s words, her tone was more stricken than angry. In fact, tears thickened her voice and shone in her eyes as she spoke. “It’s not your fault, Taire.” She stepped closer towards him and hugged him fervidly. When she spoke again, her voice was low and bitter. “Once an asshole, always an asshole, I guess.” “Don’t.” Grantaire pushed Éponine away from him... something she couldn’t recall him ever having done before. “He’s not an asshole. I just made him uncomfortable.” 

Grantaire stalked towards the door and gathered his coat, while all three of the Thénardier siblings stared after him in shock. 

“I should head out too,” he muttered, avoiding eye-contact with any of them. “Good night guys.”

------

“Ponine? You wanna come to bed?” Azelma gazed in concern at her sister, who was sitting with her knees tucked up in the couch, staring glumly at the tv screen where Lorelei Gilmore and Luke Danes were bantering.

“No thanks, Zelma.”

Azelma sighed and bowed her head. “Ponine... I know you and Grantaire don’t fight often. Still, I’m sure that you two will make up just fine. It’s not like you guys can live without each other.” 

Éponine chuckled — a slight sob colouring the sound. She looked away from the tv screen to offer Azelma a grateful, if a little watery, smile. “Thanks, Zelma. Have a good sleep, yeah? I’ll join you in a bit.”

Once Azelma was gone, Éponine rested her forehead on her knees, abandoning any pretense of watching the show. She knew Azelma was right — she and Grantaire would be okay in the end. She just wished tonight hadn’t happened. She wished Grantaire hadn’t stalked out of the apartment angry with her, for the first time in their eight years of friendship... And even more, she wished she hadn’t had to see Grantaire get his heart stomped on yet again... Éponine had witnessed Grantaire’s heart being stomped on by Enjolras too many times to count — on a near daily basis, previously. But it was so much worse this time. It was so much worse after Grantaire had been pouring everything into being kind to Enjolras and just trying to make him happy... After Enjolras and Grantaire actually seemed to be getting on good terms... After she, Éponine, had started to believe that she’d misjudged Enjolras, and maybe he wasn’t an asshole after all. 

What Éponine should be doing right now was comforting Grantaire. He should be curled up next to her on this couch and they should be bingeing Netflix while she rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

Instead, she was watching their show by herself and he was at home, alone in his heartbreak and likely stewing in his anger towards her. 

It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. And she hated it. 

Suddenly, Éponine heard the front door open — and there stood Grantaire. 

“Hullo,” Grantaire said quietly, as she stared at him in shock. 

She cried out and rocketed to her feet. Within an instant they’d crossed the floor, meeting each other halfway. She collapsed into him and his arms engulfed her. 

“I’m sorry, Taire,” she sobbed. Tears promptly soaked his shirt as she pressed her face into his collarbone. 

Grantaire shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. That was awful of me to snap at you and storm out like that.” 

“It was awful of me to talk trash about your crush. I know that wasn’t the first time… I’m so sorry, I’ll be better.” 

Grantaire dropped his face into her hair. “I forgive you, Ép. I know it’s coming out of a place of caring about me.” 

“Doesn’t make it okay.” 

“Perhaps not. But it does make it easy to forgive.” 

She whimpered gratefully. For a moment, she simply breathed him in. When at last she spoke again, her voice was cracked with emotion. “Thank you for coming back.”

“Course I came back, Ép. I’m just sorry it took me so long.” 

It had taken him a total of ninety minutes. 

“I should have gone after you.”

Grantaire lifted and lowered a shoulder. “Maybe. Or maybe I shouldn’t have left to begin with.”

“Are you okay? Enjolras —” 

“Shhh. Don't worry. We don't need to talk about Enjolras right now.”

Éponine hesitated, but then murmured acceptance and nuzzled her face in Grantaire's shirt.  “Will you stay tonight, Taire?” 

“Sure, Ép.”

-----

When Azelma woke the next morning, the first thing she did was roll over and check Éponine’s bed. It was still empty. Azelma’s face crumpled in concern. She pushed herself onto her feet and, wrapping her robe about her, headed out into the living room. 

As she suspected, Éponine was asleep on the couch. But she wasn’t alone. 

She was slumbering on Grantaire’s chest, his arms wrapped firmly around her. Her hair was a wild, frizzy, red disaster, covering most of her face and some of Grantaire’s. But Azelma could still see her sister’s slack mouth — and she could see the puddle of drool that mouth had left on Grantaire’s shirt. All in all, it was a fairly unattractive sight… yet Azelma’s heart leapt at it. 

She couldn’t help but hope, as she gazed at the entangled sleepers, that Éponine and Grantaire had figured things out last night beyond simply resolving their dispute.

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Grantaire flinched. Then, slowly, a look of remorse crossed his features and he ducked his head. 

“I’m sorry, Ép. You’re right, I’m not being a very good friend. You can vent. I’ll stop being a jerk and actually listen.” 

Éponine eyed him for a moment. Then, she scooted closer to him, dropped her head on his shoulder, and wriggled her arms underneath his so that she could wrap them around his middle. 

“You weren’t being a jerk,” she said softly. “You were just being slightly less of the outstanding best friend you normally are.” 

Grantaire’s mouth tweaked into a sad smile. “Well… I’m sorry for being a slightly less outstanding best friend to you, Ep.”

“I forgive you. Your track record isn’t too shabby.” 

Grantaire’s smile shed some of its sadness. He closed his eyes and lowered his head to the side, til it rested on top of Éponine’s. 

“Is it Enjolras?” Éponine asked. 

Grantaire shrugged the shoulder that didn’t have Éponine’s head on it. “Yeah.” (It was always Enjolras.) “But we don’t have to talk about that right now. You wanted to talk about Courf.”

“It’s okay, I was done. We can talk about Enjolras.” 

Grantaire was silent for a moment. 

Two moments. 

Then, he shifted himself under Éponine’s weight and turned, tugging her into his chest for a full frontal hug. 

“Let’s not talk about either of them, okay?” he murmured into her hair. “Wanna watch something dumb?” 

Éponine chuckled. When she pulled away from him, her eyes and mouth were smiling. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Dumb like actually dumb, or dumb like amazing dumb?”

“Dumb like amazing dumb.” 

She nodded astutely. “High school musical?” 

“One or two?”

“Three.” 

Grantaire cocked an eyebrow. Éponine held her poker face for a couple more seconds, then burst into laughter. 

“I’m joking, obviously. Two.”

-----

Enjolras watched as Grantaire fastened the new necklace Azelma had received around her neck, fluffing her hair when he was done. 

“Stylish!” he exclaimed. Then, turning to her friend, “Good taste Rachelle!” 

Éponine clucked her tongue in appreciation. “Zelma, that would go so well with your green dress, hey?” She too thanked Rachelle, and then she was passing along the next gift. 

Enjolras shifted his feet awkwardly. He wished Grantaire was the one passing out the gifts right now... That would be easier. He considered navigating around the gaggle of teenagers to get to Grantaire, but decided he couldn’t do so without looking like a fool. So, when Éponine stepped back again to watch Azelma open the next gift, Enjolras drew closer to her and coughed lightly.

“Éponine.” 

She turned to him. Enjolras observed that she flinched ever so slightly, and he felt a wave of guilt. He shouldn’t have come here. It was clear he was ruining this special day for Éponine. He would just give her his gift now and take the first opportunity to leave.

Enjolras straightened his shoulders and held out an envelope to Éponine. 

Éponine’s eyes flicked down to it, then widened in surprise. The envelope was addressed to Azelma. 

“Oh.” Eponine lifted her head again to meet Enjolras’s gaze. He wasn’t certain, but he thought she looked a little abashed. “Thank you…” she said, and her voice was softer than Enjolras had heard it yet. 

When Azelma and Grantaire had finished cooing over her last gift, Éponine walked up to her sister. Dropping the envelope in her hand, she said something too quietly for Enjolras to hear. Azelma cast a surprised look in his direction. Then, her eyes crinkled in a smile. Behind Azelma’s shoulder, Grantaire too was smiling — it was a smile that overflowed with warmth and seemed to make his entire face shine.

“It’s a gift card to Duckfeet Dancewear,” Azelma announced, once she had opened the envelope. “Enjolras, how did you know I dance?” 

“Your sister mentioned it,” Enjolras replied. “She said Grantaire was teaching you. I’m sorry, I’m aware gift cards are dull presents, but I didn’t know —” 

“No.” Azelma shook her head, still smiling kindly. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

-----

Grantaire and Éponine stood in front of Enjolras as he slipped his shoes on and retrieved his jacket from the closet. Grantaire was grinning at Enjolras he leaned against Éponine, his elbow perched on her shoulder. As for Éponine, her face was twisted in a rather strained, discomfited expression that solidified Enjolras’s resolve to hurry his departure. “Thank you very much for having me here tonight,” he said, his voice carefully measured. He nodded first to Grantaire, then to Éponine. 

“Our pleasure, E.” Grantaire chirped. “Was fun having you around. Come on over anytime, yeah?” 

Enjolras flinched. Then, he frowned. “Grantaire, with all due respect…” He had intended to finish by saying that that wasn’t Grantaire’s invitation to make. However, at that moment his mind flashed back to Grantaire effortlessly putting away Eponine’s dishes, play-wrestling with Gavroche, fastening the necklace for Azelma… and he wondered whether that would even be a correct statement.

Suddenly, Enjolras’s reverie was broken by Éponine stepping towards him. She looked distressed, and Enjolras again felt remorse at having intruded against her will. But then, she extended her hand to him to shake. 

“Thank you so much for bringing Azelma a gift,” she said quietly. “That was really nice of you.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “But of course. You needn’t thank me for that. It was her birthday party after all.” 

Éponine smiled at him — a small, rueful smile that nonetheless seemed to soften her aspect. There was a moment’s silence, in which Eponine and Enjolras simply stood looking at each other. Then Grantaire cleared his throat.

“You’re supposed to shake her hand, E.” His voice was loaded with amusement — perhaps even joy.

Enjolras started. With a somewhat spasmodic gesture, he reached forward and clasped Éponine’s proffered hand.

“À plus tard,* Éponine.” 

Her grip tightened on his hand, and her words somehow seemed laced with significance as she responded: “À bientôt,** Enjolras.” 

------

As soon as the door closed behind Enjolras, Grantaire’s arm flashed towards Éponine and hooked her waist. With a flourish that could only have come from his dance training, he spun her into him and enveloped her in a hug. 

“I’m proud of you.”

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Éponine snorted and punched Grantaire affectionately in the shoulder. “You’re worse than a stereotypical mother,” she quipped. “And yes, we packed maxi pads. Zelma’s on hers.”

From the passenger seat of the car, Azelma wailed. “Ponine! So embarrassing!”

“Oh don’t be so emotional, Zelma. It’s just Taire.”  

Behind Grantaire, Gavroche was wrinkling his nose in utter disgust.

“Okay,” Éponine said, turning to Grantaire again. “Don’t forget, you’re using Zelma’s bed. It’s the comfiest, and I haven’t changed the sheets on mine. And don’t forget Gav has soccer after school tomorrow, til 5 pm. Oh, and the yogurt on the top shelf of the fridge is expiring soon, so maybe eat that today, yeah?”

Grantaire nodded. “Got it. And you’ll call me at your first rest stop?” 

She smiled. “I’ll call you.” 

With that, she stepped forward, and Grantaire engulfed her in a hug. Éponine was only going to be gone for three days — but Grantaire already felt the ache of her absence. 

Gavroche, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for them to leave and for him to get Grantaire to himself. As such, on the fourth second of Grantaire and Éponine’s hug, the boy huffed and impatiently stamped his foot.

“Alright, alright!” he said peevishly. “You gonna mozy on out of here sis, or what? No need to take all day!” 

Éponine released Grantaire and then pulled Gavroche into a hug too, ruffling his hair. “Don’t give Taire any trouble, you here?” 

“Trouble? Me?” He smirked. “Wherever did you get such an outlandish idea?” 

Éponine rolled her eyes and flicked Gavroche in the forehead. “Alright,” she said, grinning one more time at Grantaire. “We’re off.” 

And then they were. 

Grantaire stood, staring after the receding car. But Gavroche wasted no time in breaking the moment. 

“Right then,” the boy said, turning to Grantaire and grinning impishly. “Now that we’re rid of the broads, what’s next? You bring any alcohol?”

Grantaire scoffed, reluctantly taking his eyes away from the car. “Not a chance, kiddo,” he said, giving Gavroche’s nose a tweak.

“Come on, I know you drink it when Zelma and I aren’t around! How bout sharing for once? I won’t tell Ponine.”

“Nopety, nope, nope. But if you tie your shoes properly, I’ll take you to get a slurpee.” 

Gavroche beamed and quickly bent down to do up his laces. 

They walked to the corner store and Grantaire purchased a pair of slurpees. After drinking those, they returned home and had a boxing lesson. Gavroche’s face lit up like a firefly whenever Grantaire commented on his improved technique or shortened reaction time. 

When at length the sun was going down and sweat was plastering both of their hair to their foreheads, Gavroche finally suggested a wrap. 

“Movie time?” he said, panting as he grinned up at his teacher.

“Sure thing. After showers.”

Gavroche showered first. During Grantaire’s turn, he found himself shaking the near empty shampoo bottle over his hand and smacking the bottom firmly in an attempt to dislodge the sparse remnants. He made a mental note to himself to check under Eponine’s sink after his shower to see if this was her last bottle. Finding that indeed it was, he retrieved his phone and added “ep’s shampoo” to his ongoing shopping list.

Returning to the living room, he found Gavroche cross-legged in front of the TV, evidently already settled on a movie. Dark Knight. 

Grantaire squinted at the screen. Then he turned a skeptical look to Gavroche. “It says it’s rated R.”

Gavroche smirked. “How very fitting for a movie night with R!” 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, smiling. Then he sobered again. “Seriously though, Gav, how about something more age-appropriate?”

“I’ve already watched this, so no harm. The rating is just for violence and stuff.” 

Grantaire pursed his lips. “Where did you watch it?” 

“At a friend’s house.” 

“Was Éponine aware?”

Gavroche cast him a mildly annoyed look. “No.” 

“Hm. Well, then I still don’t think we should be watching it while she asked me to look after you.” 

Gavroche heaved an exasperated sigh. “You are so whipped,” he groaned. “And it makes you very not fun sometimes.” 

Grantaire arched an eyebrow, then chuckled lightly. “Gav, fyi the term ‘whipped’ is typically used to talk about couples.”

Gav turned a condescending look on him. He didn’t offer any verbal response, but that look clearly said something along the lines of ‘I can’t believe you’re being such an idiot.’ 

Grantaire frowned, perplexed. “I mean romantic couples,” he offered, for clarification. 

Gavroche rolled his eyes — then picked up the remote and began flicking through the movies again. “Okay,” he said after a few seconds. “Lame 90’s Batman with Nicole Kidman it is. PG-13. Happy?” 

Grantaire was a little bothered by their confusing interaction over the word “whipped”, but he shook it off and nodded his assent to Gavroche’s choice. They proceeded to watch the movie. It was pretty lame, but Grantaire still managed to get into it, and had actually forgotten to be bothered... until they reached the part where the villain was insisting Batman choose between saving Nicole Kidman and saving Robin. At that point, Gavroche paused the movie and shifted around to face Grantaire. 

“Okay R,” he said with a kind of supercilious sagacity. “Let me ask you something. You’re still madly in love with Enjolras, right?” 

Grantaire’s eyebrows pushed up his forehead in surprise. His feelings for Enjolras had become a bit of an implicitly taboo topic in the Thénardier household, ever since the man had showed up at Eponine’s door to apologize and, in the process, made it very clear that Grantaire’s feelings weren’t returned. Not that Grantaire was particularly sensitive about this — he’d never loved Enjolras with much hope, so nothing had really changed for him. But Éponine’s negative energy around the topic seemed to diffuse into her siblings, who understood not to speak of the matter. 

Now however, Gavroche was either allowing himself to speak more freely in Éponine’s absence, or he had some distinct purpose for asking this question which overrode the taboo. Whichever it was, Grantaire took the question in good humour, and simply nodded. 

“Right.” 

“Mhm. So let’s say Two-Face over there —” Gavroche jerked his head to the tv screen —  “had you in a bind and made you choose between saving Enjolras’s life and saving Ponine’s. What would you do?” 

Grantaire blinked. Then frowned. “What kind of horrible question is that?” 

“A hypothetical one aimed at shedding light on your stupidity. Go on. Who would you choose?” Gavroche folded his arms expectantly. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he added: “And yes, we both know we’re going to turn this movie back on and good ol’ Batman’s gonna pull a fast one and save both. But scratch that from our hypothetical options. Éponine or Enjolras, R?”

Grantaire pushed out an irritated sound through his nose. “I don’t see the point of this exercise… But I’d choose Ep, obviously. I’m not a terrible best friend.” 

“Mhm. ’S’what I thought.” Gavroche smirked at Grantaire — but his smirk eventually faded as the latter just blinked back at him, non-plussed. Gavroche groaned and smacked a hand to his forehead. “Jiminy Cricket, do I have to draw you a picture or something?”

“Gav, I don’t know what the heck you’re —”

“Okay.” Gavroche waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s try again. You’re shipwrecked on a deserted island and you can only have one person with you for company. One person , R, to spend the rest of your life with, exclusively. Who do you choose?”

“Gav, why on earth —”

“Just answer the question, R.”

Grantaire’s forehead was furrowed in a deep frown as he regarded the boy grilling him. He felt dreadfully uncomfortable. But Gavroche was like his eldest sister — tenacious. The only way to get this bizarre game of his to end, was to play it through. So Grantaire lifted his chin and answered, a little hoarsely: 

“Ép.”

Grantaire nodded in satisfaction. “Good. If that isn’t enough to get through your thick skull… Then blimey, I give up.” With that, he lifted the clicker again and pressed play.

Grantaire was sweating. He stuck his fists in his pits and clamped his arms down on them. “Ep is my best friend, Gav,” he said, over the movie. His voice still came out rather cracked. 

“Mhm.” Gavroche’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Your best friend whom you’d rather spend your life with exclusively than with Enjolras, the supposed love of your life. Or did you forget that he was an option in the deserted island scenario?”

Grantaire hadn’t forgotten. 

Enjolras was magnificent. He was awe-inspiring, stunningly beautiful, formidable, radiant.... Grantaire could spend hours on end admiring him from across Le Café Musain, a drunk and dopey smile hanging off his lips as he watched that splendid statue of a man go to and fro about his business. 

Yes. Enjolras was glorious and Grantaire was besotted with him. 

But Enjolras wasn’t Éponine. Enjolras didn’t spend countless evenings cuddled against Grantaire on the sofa, laughing over an episode of Gilmore girls they’d already seen a dozen times. Enjolras didn’t hold back his bangs while he vomited into a toilet out of heartsickness. Enjolras didn’t put in heroic effort to befriend Grantaire’s crush, whom he hated, just because Grantaire asked him to. 

And Enjolras wasn’t familiar to Grantaire in every way, shape, and form... Grantaire didn’t know Enjolras’s living habits inside and out, from how he organized his dishes to what kind of shampoo he used. Grantaire didn’t mentally keep track of the times of the month in which Enjolras was hormonal and moody, so that he could be sure to support him in all the right ways. In short — Enjolras and Grantaire weren’t bonded together so closely that if someone ever tried to separate them from each other, that person would have to manually untangle all their entrails, veins, and arteries. 

Éponine and Grantaire were.

“Hang on,” Grantaire interjected. “Before games — Zelma, why don’t you show Enjolras the new dance shoes we bought with his gift card?”

Azelma smiled brightly. “Sure!” She hopped off the couch and went to fetch the shoes. 

Enjolras felt oddly flustered. The suggestion that Azelma show him her shoes made him feel as though he was being put in the spotlight. And while he was perfectly comfortable with the spotlight when delivering eloquent speeches or commanding the attention of a rally... in this family setting, he was quite out of his depth. 

Azelma returned a moment later, proudly wearing a pair of black lace-up shoes with a slight heel. “They’ve got suede soles for just the right amount of traction,” she told Enjolras. “Ideal for spinning and gliiiding...” She struck a pose on the last word and slid a couple feet across the floor. Then she grinned and extended both her hands to Grantaire. “Come on Grantaire, let’s demonstrate for him!”

Grantaire smiled and gently nudged Éponine, who was still lying with her head on his lap. She sat up and Grantaire pushed himself off the couch. As he drew near to Azelma, he took her right hand in his and placed his other hand on her upper back. Then, the two were gliding and twirling about the room, to whoops and cheers from Éponine and Gavroche. They appeared to switch dance styles a number of times, displaying everything in their repertoire. Enjolras didn’t know anything about dance styles, but when the graceful floating of the Waltz became the energetic pulses and kicks of the Lindy Hop, he was astute enough to remark the change. It was truly delightful to watch, and Enjolras found himself smiling in spite of his initial discomfort. 

Finally, Grantaire twirled Azelma into him and dropped her in a low dip.

Éponine and Gavroche clapped enthusiastically — and then Gavroche turned to his older sister with an impish grin.

“Okay, Ép’s turn!” he said, giving her a firm shove in the back so that she staggered forward. Azelma promptly stepped away, making room for Éponine. The latter looked rather stunned. “What? I don’t da—” 

But she was cut off by Grantaire who, laughing, promptly swept her towards him and began whisking her about the room. She shrieked, and at first tried to tug away. But Grantaire’s hold was firm and he continued carrying her with him through every step, even as her resistance caused her to stumble dreadfully. “Relax,” he said, smiling down at her with eyes that shone with fondness. “If you just relax, it will be easy. I’ve got you.” Éponine scowled up at him and opened her mouth to retort — but then he gave her right hand, which was clasped in his, an affectionate squeeze. “Come on,” he said. “Trust me.” 

She hesitated a moment — and then, the muscles in both her face and her body softened. Soon she was smiling as Grantaire moved her, much more easily now, through steps that she knew nothing of. 

It was indeed much improved after she relaxed; there was much less staggering and jerkiness as Éponine resisted Grantaire’s lead. Even so, however, it was not nearly as esthetically pleasing as watching Azelma and Grantaire dance. And yet... despite that inferiority, Enjolras found his chest tightening with emotion as he watched this pair, in a way that it had not while watching Grantaire dance with Azelma.

Whatever this was... whatever Éponine and Grantaire had... he wanted it. 

He wanted it on that day Éponine had stormed into the Cafe, enraged over her friend’s mistreatment, and ranted about everything that made Grantaire so wonderful. He wanted it when Grantaire packed up coffee for Éponine at Le Cafe Musain. He wanted it when he saw Grantaire doing Éponine’s grocery shopping. When he saw him putting away her dishes as though her apartment was his own home. When he saw how he interacted with Azelma and Gavroche, like he was an integral part of the Thénardier family. And he wanted it now, as he saw Éponine and Grantaire laughing and dancing and simply exuding sheer happiness.

Enjolras scarcely admitted feelings of a yearning nature to himself. Perhaps even at that very moment, he was not truly admitting them to himself. All the same, they showed on his face... Which was why, when Grantaire finally dipped Éponine to end the dance, his expression of simple joy faltered as he caught sight of Enjolras.

“Um...” Grantaire released Éponine and tugged awkwardly at his ear, his eyes fixed on Enjolras’s wistful face. “Do you... wanna try?” Uncertainly, he extended a hand towards Enjolras.  

A hot flush rose promptly to Enjolras’s face. His yearning expression vanished and was replaced with something much harder. “No thank you,” he said, and there was a chill in his voice that had not been there since he’d banned Grantaire from the ABC Meetings. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a show of checking the time. “I should head home,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for inviting me to your movie night.” And then, without further ceremony, Enjolras walked briskly to the door and exited. 

Grantaire was left staring at the closed door, devastation all across his face. Éponine was left staring up at Grantaire, wearing much the same expression. 

“I...” Grantaire passed a shaky hand over his eyes. “I made him uncomfortable. I didn’t mean... I wasn’t hitting on him, I just...”

“Fucking bastard.” Despite the aggressiveness of Éponine’s words, her tone was more stricken than angry. In fact, tears thickened her voice and shone in her eyes as she spoke. “It’s not your fault, Taire.” She stepped closer towards him and hugged him, burying her face fervidly in his chest. When she spoke again, her voice was low and bitter. “Once an asshole, always an asshole, I guess.” “Don’t.” Grantaire pushed Éponine away from him... something she couldn’t recall him ever having done before. “He’s not an asshole. I just made him uncomfortable.” 

Grantaire stalked towards the door and gathered his coat, while all three of the Thénardier siblings stared after him in shock. 

“I should head out too,” he muttered, avoiding eye-contact with any of them. “Good night guys.”